


Snakes and Sunflowers

by MissPugLover24



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Although I'll Ignore Parts At Times As Well, And That's Really Cute, Angst, Bad Albus Dumbledore, Bisexual Hannah Abbott, Canon is Followed Loosely, Consensual Underage Sex, Crushes, Daphne Greengrass is a Good Sister, Eventual Smut, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Malfoy Family (Harry Potter), Good Slytherins, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione Wants To Be Everyone's Friend, Hogwarts, I love Astoria more than anyone or anything, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Ron Weasley Bashing, No Problematic Age Gaps Here, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Protective Siblings, Protective Slytherins, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Hermione Granger, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Slytherins are actually softies, Smut, Snape is a Good Person in this Fic, So OOC Snape, Taylor Swift Song Chapters, That Includes Slytherins, They Act Their Age!, kids being kids, mutual underage sex, well some of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 102,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPugLover24/pseuds/MissPugLover24
Summary: During the Battle at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione is killed. But the end is not always the end. Perhaps it sometimes places you back at your beginnings, or nudges you along to beyond the final moments. But sometimes, it tears out the pages of the book and starts anew. Sometimes it thrusts you into a new life, with a new family and friends, with no memories of the last. Perhaps, though, that was always what you were meant to be."Then suddenly, the floating stopped. Hermione started to fall-quickly. She flailed her arms around to try to slow her rapid descent, grabbing for her wand, for something to hold onto but there was nothing, which was just as frightening as the fall itself. Then, just as suddenly as the fall had started, it stopped, and her eyes flew open to the sound of a girl's laughter."
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Neville Longbottom, Daphne Greengrass/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 226
Kudos: 683
Collections: dramione to read





	1. Sacred New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is the first fic I've ever posted, but I have some experience in writing, and I've been wanting to do it for a while. I'll be posting every Friday. This is going to be a *long* fic, as I'm planning to cover all seven years of Hogwarts and some beyond as well.
> 
> Some other notes: The pairings listed above are the endgame parings, although it will take a little bit to get there. Most of them will be dating another person (or people, in some cases) before they end up with who I have listed above. Some of them will have long-standing crushes on who they end up with throughout the whole story, because I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.
> 
> There is some minor Ron Weasley/general Weasley bashing in it, but this is because the main characters are Slytherins, and don't get on particularly well with him, or Harry Potter, but Harry might come around at some point much later on (no promises!). Harry will be very stubborn, as Hermione in the original series would try and get him to think and challenge his beliefs-like in the first book when she at first didn't think Snape was after the Sorcerer's Stone-but without Hermione, he's not going to have that someone encouraging him to think. Ron is a little more anti-Slytherin in the first year than he was in the first book to help with my plot. The ideals and beliefs that the characters hold are not based off of my own ideals and beliefs-they are reflective of how I believe the character in the situation that they are in would think, react, or say. 
> 
> Currently, I have this rated at M, but that will probably change to E when that time comes, but I won't be switching the story's category until I've posted the first chapter that is Explicit (i.e. has smut). There is cursing in this story, if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, but I don't use any derogatory slurs, for rather obvious reasons, I think. There will be mentions of Death Eater activity, although I won't go into graphic detail, and I will put trigger warnings in the Author's Notes of that chapter. As for JK Rowling's views on the transgender community, I don't agree with them. You won't find her TERF views anywhere in here.
> 
> I also use some direct quotes from the books, but I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it. With all that being said, thank you, and please enjoy!

Hermione raced after Harry and Neville, hearing the footsteps and shouts of the Death Eaters behind her. Harry bolted into an open door and Hermione and Neville dashed in behind him, Hermione wrenching the door shut behind her.

“ _ Collo- _ ” Hermione started to cry, but she was interrupted by the door crashing open and the two Death Eaters that had been following them bursting inside. Hermione was vaguely aware of a shout of “Impedimenta!” as she was thrown into a bookshelf. She heard the crack of a rib, and quickly protected herself from the onslaught of falling books with a frantic shield. 

One of the Death Eaters yelled, “We’ve got him! In an office off-”

“ _ Silencio _ !” Hermione cried out, and the man’s voice off abruptly. He was thrust aside by his fellow, who was in turn, quickly petrified by Harry. 

Hermione turned to Harry, “Well done Ha-”. She was cut off by a purple spell that erupted from the mute Death Eater’s wand as she crumpled onto the floor, blackness overtaking her vision.

When she came to, she looked around at her surroundings, which were dark and vast. Looking down, Hermione realized that there was no floor, and she was standing on nothing. Despite her fear of heights, she felt no panic. She felt calm, eerily so. 

_ It was rather like floating,  _ Hermione noted, as she idly wondered what had happened to her. Was she dead? Was this what death was? 

Her parents had once taken her to a church back when she was nine or ten, and the minister had raved about the pits of hell, and the torture practised by Satan and his demons, and how by accepting Jesus into your life, you would go to heaven, where the roads would be paved in gold. Hermione had always thought that that had seemed a little impractical-if there  _ was  _ a higher being, what use would he have for a road of gold? It wasn’t like gold meant anything to him, it wasn’t as if he had money, even if He was real. So Hermione had done what she did best-research. 

She read about different religions' beliefs of the afterlife, and none of them really matched up with each other. Even people with near-death experiences all recounted different things, and even if they were similar, who was to say they weren’t hallucinating? Even when she pored through pages and pages of scientific theory on the afterlife and what happened after you died, nothing panned out. So, for the first time in her life, exhausted, Hermione gave up. That wasn’t to say that it didn’t bother her - she hated not knowing things. Death and what happened afterwards always remained a niggling thought in the back of her mind that she desperately tried to ignore, because, quite honestly, the uncertainty of it all scared her. When she discovered the Magical world, the thought returned to the forefront of her mind and again, she tried to discover what the afterlife was-perhaps wizards knew-but again, her efforts remained fruitless. Hermione did read one book that mentioned a religion in which wizards and witches believed that Lady Magic was a tangible thing-like God and Fate and Luck and Divine Intervention wrapped all into one. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find much else on it. Hermione had asked Ginny if she knew anything about it. Ginny had shaken her head and told her that it was this thing that only Purebloods like the Malfoys and the Greengrasses believed in, and that nobody else really knew too much about it. All she’d been able to tell Hermione was that those who believed in Lady Magic celebrated Yuletide instead of Christmas and Samhain instead of Halloween, along with various other holidays and holiday substitutions. Ginny had said that she thought it was kind of a neat idea, but she didn’t know enough about it to tell Hermione if she really believed in it or not. And even if she did, it wasn’t like the “snobby Pureblood Slytherins”, as Ginny had put it, would let her practice with them or even teach her anything about it. 

A couple of years later, Hermione had asked Sirius about it. Sirius had snorted and said, “I believed in it as a kid. Not sure if I do anymore, ‘cause it’s all supposed to be about balance. Good people get rewarded, bad people get punished, that sort of thing.. It’s all about intention. Light or Dark, doesn’t matter. Balance. And the shite hand that’s been dealt to me is  _ not  _ balanced!” He shouted the end up to the sky as if Lady Magic herself would hear him and come down and fix his life. Hermione wasn’t sure if Sirius was disappointed that Lady Magic didn’t show up. 

But no matter what, Hermione didn’t think that there was a single religion or scientific theory or person or  _ anything  _ that thought that whatever  _ this  _ was was death. Was she going to be here for eternity? How long had she been here? A second, a year? A hundred? How was time measured here? Was this even death? What if it was a waiting room of sorts? Hermione’s mind continued to race, faster and faster, questions spilling over into other questions, memories flashing through her mind at the speed of light. Then suddenly, the floating  _ stopped.  _ Hermione started to fall-quickly. She flailed her arms to try and slow her rapid descent. She grabbed for her wand, for something to hold on to, even if she couldn’t use it, but there was  _ nothing,  _ which was just as frightening as the fall itself. Then, just as suddenly as the fall had started, it stopped.

* * *

Hermione’s eyes flew open as she bolted upright, gasping for breath. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a girl laughed, as Hermione’s senses returned to her. She was in her room. Daphne sat on the edge of her bed, her gentle waves messy from sleep-the way they always were before she charmed them pin straight with the spell from Mum’s grimoire, “Bad dream?” Daphne asked. 

“Yeah,” Hermione breathed, “Funny thing is...I can’t remember what in Merlin’s name it was about!” Hermione tried to chase the threads of her dream, but it was to no avail. Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind. Suddenly, she froze. “Daphne, it’s September 1st!”

Daphne’s giggles burst into full out laughter, “Took you long enough to figure out! You’ve only been talking about it non-stop for the past  _ month _ !”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “As if you’ve been any better, Daph.”

“Touché.”

“Circe, Merlin and Morgana! What time is it?” Hermione exclaimed, “Did we miss the train?” 

“No, Mia, calm down. It’s seven in the morning, Skippie is packing everything into our trunks, Mippie is making pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast, and Pippie is waiting to help us in the bathroom. In fact, she’s getting quite impatient. I’d say she’s about two minutes from dragging you out of bed, sleepyhead,” Daphne teased. 

“Well, who am I to keep Pippie waiting?” Hermione grinned, as she slipped out of bed. She skipped through her room to the door to the shared bathroom and flung the door wide. “Pippie!” she exclaimed.

“Mistress Miney,” the elf was on top of a step stool, her foot tapping in impatience, “You’s be snoozing late.”

Daphne giggled from behind, “Pippie, it’s only seven in the morning, cut Mia some slack!”

“Fine,” Pippie conceded, “But it be’s an important day for Mistress Miney and Mistress Daphne. Now sits.”

Hermione and Daphne sat in matching fluffy white chairs, and Pippie set to work on Daphne’s hair. Hermione and Daphne were almost identical-the same round blue eyes, the same heart-shaped face, the same slightly upturned nose, the same elegant lithe limbs. That being said, Daphne would swear that Hermione’s cheeks were rosier - to which Hermione would scoff, and Hermione would insist Daphne had prettier teeth - to which Daphne would roll her eyes and ask how someone could have ‘pretty teeth’. All the same, the only true difference between the girls was the color of their hair. 

Both were _just_ a shade off blonde. Like their mother’s, Daphne’s hair was the softest strawberry blonde Hermione had ever known a person to have. It could almost be called rose-colored, though it was _slightly_ too pale for that. Hermione’s hair, on the other hand, matched her father’s. It was an ashy color, just brunette enough to not be pure blonde, but just light enough not to be a definite brunette.

Hermione looked over to Daphne to see Pippie putting in her final touches, and then putting a bow into Daphne’s hair, right at the top of her braid, “Now you’s be staying still until I do Mistress Miney’s hair!” Pippie insisted, before popping her step stool over to behind Hermione. She started charming Hermione’s hair into loose waves, and her small fingers nimbly braided bits of hair to meet at the nape of Hermione’s neck. Tying the whole thing off with a green ribbon, like she had Daphne’s, Pippie snatched a bottle of nail polish off the vanity, and quickly gave each of the girls French Manicures. 

“Now shoo!” Pippie waved them away with her hands, and they each went into their bedrooms that connected to the bathroom. 

Greengrass Manor was rather large, and certainly had more than enough rooms for each of the girls to have their own bathroom, but Daphne and Hermione insisted that if they couldn’t share a room (as their parents insisted that they didn’t), then they would share a bathroom and be as close as possible to sharing a room as they could. 

Hermione carefully surveyed each of her robe options for the ride to Hogwarts. Even though she would be likely sharing a compartment with Pansy, Theo, Draco, Hannah, and Daphne-of course- who she had all known for as long as any of them could remember, but she would also at least see some other people whom she hadn’t met before. Granted, there shouldn’t be any surprise Purebloods, as she was at the very least, friendly acquaintances with all the ones that showed up to any sort of event. They kind of had to get to like each other, it wasn’t like there was anything terribly interesting to do while the adults wined and dined and made political and business moves. Then again, it was always possible that there  _ could  _ be some Pure-bloods who never really showed up to anything. The Lovegoods never did, for example, although Hermione was pretty sure that Luna Lovegood wasn’t going to Hogwarts until next year. There would be the less important Half-bloods, the ones whose parents didn’t have enough influence to get themselves invited to any galas or Ministry functions.

And then there were the Muggle-borns. Hermione had nothing against Muggle-borns, it was just that she had never met one. Father had warned her not to talk about Lady Magic around Muggle-borns because more often than not, they’d dismiss it or think it was Dark. However, that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be cordial with them, connections  _ were  _ important, no matter who they were with. And perhaps, there would be a particularly powerful Muggle-born in her year. Those sometimes happened, although rarely. Unlike most Muggle-borns, who came from lines of forgotten squibs, the really powerful ones popped out of nowhere. Take Lily Evans Potter, for example. Hermione was of the belief that Lily Evans Potter had been blessed by Lady Magic. After all, the ritual she did to save her son, Harry Potter, from You-Know-Who was one of the widely known, but rarely practiced, rituals known by those who followed Lady Magic. It was rarely practised for two obvious reasons. First, it was really difficult, and second, it required the caster to sacrifice their own life.

Now that she thought about it, Hermione realised that Harry Potter would be in her year. She vowed there and then that she would not get caught up in the hubbub of the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ nonsense. After all, it was Lily Evans Potter who did anything even worth talking about. Hermione idly wondered if Potter would believe in Lady Magic, like his parents did, or if he’d subscribe to the same beliefs as Dumbledore did-that Light Magic was the only acceptable form of Magic. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Magic was a balance, it was neither Light nor Dark, and anyway most spells and rituals that people considered ‘Dark’ weren’t even  _ that  _ bad. They just used blood. Blood Magic and Dark Spells weren’t inherently bad, it was all about intent. Even two thirds of the Unforgivables could be justified at times. The Imperius could prevent someone from committing suicide or hurting someone else. The Killing Curse could painlessly euthanize an animal, or a victim of Dragon Pox who didn’t want to live to face the worst symptoms of the disease. The Cruciatus, though, had absolutely no use Hermione could think of that would be justifiable. 

Daphne burst through Hermione’s door, interrupting her thoughts. “Come on, have you even picked out a pair of robes yet?” Hermione shook her head. “Ugh!” Daphne placed her hand over her heart, sighing dramatically, “First impressions are  _ very _ important!”

“I know! I was just thinking!”

“Well, I’m going to pick one out for you then,” Daphne looked over each of the robes laid out on the floor. “Not that one... no, that’s a little too formal...that one you wore already twice this summer, you ought to wait at least half a year to wear it again, if you’re even  _ going  _ to wear it again, a-ha!” Daphne triumphantly pulled up lavender colored robes with a knee-length skirt and a white blouse. Hermione put them on and looked into her mirror.

“Thanks Daph, it looks great!”

Daphne blushed, “Aunt Cissa thinks I should go into designing witches’ robes when I’m older.”

“That’s great, Daphne! You should totally do that. Aunt Cissa knows quite possibly everything that there is to know about fashion, so if she says that you're good, then it means you're brilliant at it.” Hermione paused. Aunt Cissa, who wasn’t  _ actually  _ their Aunt, just their godmother, was the most fashionable woman Hermione knew, and that included her mother, “And I’ve always known that you are. Plus, you can draw like super well, and that’s like half of designing already, isn’t it?”

Daphne ducked her head, “Sure. Let’s go see if Stori’s up yet.”

They raced to the door and flung open the door across the hallway that led to their younger sister’s bedroom. Astoria was already up, bouncing around the room in excitement, her platinum blonde hair trailing behind her as she bounded across the room. She turned to see her older sisters staring at her and giggling. “What?” she demanded, “I’m excited for you!” Her expression turned a little sullen, “I wish  _ I  _ could go with you to Hogwarts this year.”

“Sorry, ‘Stori,” Hermione said, “Two more years.”

“Ugh!” Astoria flopped back onto her bed, “That’s for _ -ever  _ away!”

Hermione laughed, “Between you and Daphne, I don’t know which one of you is more overdramatic.”

“Hey! I am  _ not  _ as overdramatic as Daphne is!” Astoria protested.

“Fine, I see how it is,” Daphne exclaimed in faux-hurt, “You know, I _was_ going to tell you that Mippie is making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, but I guess n-”  
Astoria sat straight up. “Chocolate chip pancakes?” She tore past the twins and ran straight through the hallway towards the stairs.

“Well someone’s energetic this morning,” Hermione grinned wryly.

“I am not half as overdramatic as Astoria is,” Daphne grumbled.

“Fine,” Hermione conceded, “But you’re still pretty dramatic. But I love you for it.”

Daphne grinned. “Race you to the dining room?”

Hermione’s grin matched Daphne’s. “You’re on.”

* * *

When Daphne and Hermione arrived in the dining room, panting and out of breath. Daphne threw her hands into the air and declared “I won!” to Hermione’s protest “Did not!”

They looked up to see their mother and father sitting at the table, looking amused. Astoria’s face was obscured by a pile of pancakes taller than she was. 

“You know, if I didn’t know better,” their mother began wryly, “I’d say that we have two little lions on our hands.”

Hermione and Daphne gaped and sputtered their protests.

“We’re Slytherins!” Daphne declared, “See?” Both Hermione and Daphne stiffened, straightening their back, their expressions becoming decidedly haughty. The pair of carefree girls transformed into the peak of aristocracy and above it all-ness.

“Good posture,” their mother smiled.

Father put down the Daily Prophet and grinned, “And Selene and I will be proud of you no matter what house either of you gets into. Now sit down and eat some breakfast, Mippie made it special for you.”

Hermione and Daphne sat down and piled pancakes onto their plate and started eating. 

Their mother, Selene Greengrass, nee Rosier, was the epitome of what Hermione wanted to be when she grew up: beautiful, clever, and wickedly intelligent. She wore her hair in her signature chignon, wrapped tightly at her neck. She was a carbon copy of what Hermione thought Daphne would look like when she was older. Their father, Hyperion Greengrass, meanwhile, was the most intelligent person Hermione knew. A savvy businessman, he had significant stock in what felt like countless wildly successful magical businesses. He was a major shareholder of The Daily Prophet, Nimbus Broomsticks-as well as a company for broomsticks that was still developing a broom called a ‘firebolt’, and Floo Powder, and he held some stock in Magical Menagerie, Odgens Firewhiskey, and Honeydukes… and that was just off the top of her head! But what Hermione admired the most about her father was that he sat on the Most Ancient and Noble Seat of Greengrass on the Wizengamot, writing and voting on laws that governed how their very society worked. It was a seat she would inherit one day when she was of age. 

As Hermione finished her pancakes, the clock struck nine. “We need to leave in half an hour if we want to get to the train in time for you to find a nice compartment,” said Selene.

Mippie popped into the room, “Mippie be’s packing sweets for the ride to Hogwarts for Mistress Miney and Mistress Daphne,” she announced proudly.

“Thanks, Mippie, but isn’t there a trolley lady?”

Mippie harrumphed primly, “Trolley ladies not be selling all the sweets. Mippie knows she’s not be selling Salt Water Taffy, or Charm Choc. And theys every flavored beans not be sorted through like Mippie does, no. Mippie be’s able to tells which beans be bad. She’s be packing only the good ones for her Little Mistresses. And,” Mippie grinned smugly, “Mippie be packing a cake and cookies for Little Mistresses and friends to share. She even be packing butter cookies for Miss Hannah.” 

“Thanks Mippie!” Hermione smiled.

“Can you send us your cakes and cookies during the school year, Mippie?” Daphne asked.

“Only if Little Mistresses do good in school. Mippie be wanting at least A’s and EE’s,” Mippie announced stubbornly and then her voice turned conspiratorial, “And if Little Mistresses be doing really really good, Mippie’s be sending even more.” 

Hyperion chuckled, “Thank you, Mippie. With that encouraging them, we’re going to have the top students at Hogwarts.”

“Mippie’s Little Mistresses be smart,” Mippie declared.

“That they are,” Selene smiled warmly, “But just in case you want anything from the Trolley, here’s some galleons to get you through the trip. Hermione took the handful of galleons and dropped them into her already bulging bottomless bag for her money. “Gracious, Hyperion!” Selene exclaimed, when she noticed the bag, “How much did you give them?” 

“Five hundred galleons each,” Hyperion flipped the page of his newspaper, not even looking up.

“Five hundred _ each? _ They aren’t even allowed into Hogsmeade this year, whatever could they need all that for?”

“Have you forgotten how much betting went on in Slytherin?”

“Oh,” Selene’s eyes filled with understanding, “Well, send a letter with Persephone if you need any more at any point during the year. Try not to bet more than twenty galleons at a time, and even then only if you are certain you’ll win, or that you can rig it so that you will. Stick with five for bets you’re less certain of.” Hyperion snorted from behind the newspaper.

“If you must lose, Daphne, I suggest you lose to Theo. It’ll end up yours again eventually.”

Daphne went crimson. She had a betrothal contract with Theo that had been made up when they were little when Selene discovered that Theo and Daphne had a soulbond. 

“Oooh,” Astoria sang, “Someone’s got a cruuuuuush!”

“Well, he  _ is  _ my soulmate,” Daphne snorted, “I’d sure hope I had a crush on him.”

“Point goes to Daphne,” Hermione laughed.

“I don’t care! Boys are  _ icky  _ and  _ gross  _ and...  _ no thank you!”  _ Astoria proclaimed from her seat. 

“Even me?” Hyperion folded his newspaper down and looked at Astoria.

“No of course not, Daddy! I suppose you, Uncle Lucius and Uncle Helios aren’t icky and gross. But that’s it!” Astoria threw her nose up in the air, as if that ended the matter.

Hermione, meanwhile, was exchanging glances with Selene, and both were trying not to dissolve into laughter. “Well, maybe one day, not all boys will be icky and gross,” Selene amended. Astoria looked like she wasn’t so sure.

“Before we leave, I want you two to remember to keep practising your Occlumency. As I’ve told you before, Dumbledore is a legilimens, and I don’t want him poking around inside your head. Particularly not yours, Mia. In fact, try to never be with him one on one, and if you must, make sure you bring Professor Snape along with you, or whomever your Head of House is should you be sorted elsewhere.”

Both girls nodded, and Hermione’s stomach clenched like it did every single time she thought about someone getting past her Occlumency shields and mucking about in her brain. 

Skippie popped into the dining room with two large trunks. Hermione was rather grateful that her family could afford Endless-Extendable Trunks-400 galleons each!-because she knew that with her books and clothes and robes and decorations for the dorm room, even a normal magical trunk wouldn’t have been able to hold all of her stuff. She wondered if Muggle-borns even knew to get magical trunks or if they tried to fit their entire wardrobe for the whole year into a standard sized non-magical trunk. Not that Hermione knew how big they were on the inside, but she assumed that, unlike magical trunks, non-magical trunks were the same size they appeared to be on the outside. 

Hyperion checked his watch. “IThink it’s about time to get moving. We’re going to Floo onto the platform. Astoria, you’re going to go with your mother.”

“Awww,” Astoria pouted, “I’m nine! And a half! When can  _ I  _ floo by myself?” 

“We’ll let you start flooing on your own when you turn ten,” Selene soothed Astoria, who brightened considerably. 

“Deal!”

Hermione picked up her trunk-thank Merlin it was equipped with a feather-light charm-and walked to the Floo room. Skippie, Mippie and Pippie were waiting by the side, each of them with tears in their eyes, holding a handkerchief.

Her father went through first. “Platform 9 ¾’s,” he announced, and he was swallowed by the green flames. Daphne followed him through, and then Hermione stepped into the fireplace.

“Platform 9 ¾’s,” Hermione’s voice rang through the Floo room, and the pale blues and whites of the Floo room dissolved and reformed as bright reds, blacks and golds of the Hogwarts Express and the platform. The platform was slightly busy, but certainly not anywhere near its most crowded.

_ Mask on _ , Hermione thought to herself, as her entire demeanour changed. She stepped out of the fireplace gracefully and stepped to the side where Daphne and her father were waiting, their expressions aloof. Hyperion silently cast a  _ Scourgify _ so that Hermione’s robes were cleaner than they would’ve been brand new. After a couple of seconds, Selene and Astoria walked out of the Floo, Selene casting  _ Scourgify  _ over each of them as they walked. Hermione internally laughed at the wonder hidden behind Astoria’s eyes in a careful mask. 

“One would think the Platform is never cleaned,” Selene sniffed, “Come, let’s find the Malfoys.” Hyperion held out his arm, and Selene took hold of it. 

“Lucius always shows up at 9:30, so he should be around here somewhere,” Hyperion said, his lofty voice cutting through the chatter of the other families on the platform. 

Hermione’s eyes landed on three heads of platinum blonde in the crowd, “Father, I think I see them.” She tilted her head slightly in the direction of the Malfoys. Her father’s eyes caught the platinum blonde hair and he took the lead. 

“Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, you’re all looking well,” Hyperion’s voice boomed.

Hermione saw Lucius’s wand flick and heard the telltale buzz of  _ muffliato _ .

“Hyperion, how are you doing?” Lucius’s smirk broke onto his face. He turned to the twins and asked, “Are you two ready to go to Hogwarts?”

“Oh, for sure!” Daphne gushed, the warmth in her voice making up for the coolness in her stare. Just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean that they could let their masks down. That was for private settings, or at least not when all of the Greengrasses were together. If anyone were to look at them, they had to think that the Greengrasses were just what they thought: cold, aloof, and cutthroat. 

“Hey Draco!” Hermione said, pushing the smile through her voice. 

“Hermione,” he smirked, “Daphne.”

“I feel rather forgotten,” Narcissa sniffed in faux-hurt, “My favorite godchildren haven’t even said so much as a hello to me yet!”

“We could never forget about you, Aunt Cissa,” Astoria stated with the utmost seriousness.

“Stori, nobody can hear us,” Daphne admonished, “You can talk normally.”

“I know,” Astoria’s tone didn’t falter, “I just can’t talk normally without my face making expressions I don’t want it to make when I’m trying to be all fancy. I’m just too expressive.”

Aunt Cissa looked like she was holding back laughter, “That’s alright, Astoria. You can come over this week and we can work on that. After all, I’m going to have an empty house!”

“Cissa, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to steal my own child from me! I’d have an empty house without Astoria!” Selene exclaimed.

“Yes,” Narcissa tilted her head, “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Stop it!” Astoria said loftily, “You’re going to make me laugh and then I’m going to break my mask. It’s not fair that you’re all so much better at it than I am. Life is so unfair! I can’t Floo alone and I can’t talk normally with my mask on! I’m nine and a half for Circe’s sake! It’s like I’m a baby and I can’t do anything!”

Daphne and Hermione exchanged amused glances. “That’s not true,” Narcissa placated, “I know that you can ride a broomstick, and a horse. You even know French, Latin, Spanish, and you’re learning German! You can most certainly do many things.”

“Yeah, but Mia and Daphne can fully speak German and they also know Italian,” Astoria grumbled.

“Hey, none of that,” Hermione chided gently, “I know Daphne couldn't speak any German at your age.”

“And Daphne can’t play the violin like you can, Astoria,” Draco grinned.

“And your calligraphy is prettier than hers.”

“And she’s thumbs at-”

“Hey!” Daphne interrupted, “What is this? Draco and Hermione gang up on Daphne day? Draco, you can’t even play  _ piano,  _ and Hermione, I  _ know  _ that you’re the worst one out of all four of us at riding a broom by far!” 

Hermione let a small grin crack through her mask, transforming it into something more akin to a smirk. “Stori, you’re pretty great at a lot of things. Just because you can’t speak German and Italian yet and you can’t floo alone or talk normally with your mask on doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to do it soon.”

“Draco, girls,” said Hyperion, “Why don’t you say your goodbyes and go and find a nice compartment before all the best ones get taken? We can wait here for you if you want us to see the train off.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Daphne said, “Plus ‘Stori probably wants to see the train leave.”

“Remember to let Persephone fly to Hogwarts, I’m sure she’s been aching to make a long flight,” said Hermione.

“Ulysses probably wants to stretch his wings too,” Draco informed his parents.

Hermione went to hug Uncle Lucius goodbye, and he squeezed her affectionately. Aunt Cissa’s hug brought on a promise to write at least once a week. Astoria’s hug almost brought on tears from the younger sister, who sniffed them in.

“Send lots and lots of pictures!”

“Pictures?”

“Astoria!” Hyperion moaned, “That was going to be a surprise.”

“Surprise?” Daphne asked. 

Hyperion pulled two box shaped gifts out of his pockets. “Unwrap them, but I’m pretty sure you already know what they are.” Hermione pulled out a box of film and Daphne’s eyes shined at the camera in her box.

“Thanks, Daddy!” Daphne beamed.

The clock chimed ten, and Hermione and Daphne hugged their parents goodbye before following Draco onto the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, this is the first fanfiction I've posted, so if there is anyone who would be able to Beta my story to check for any errors as well as for me to bounce ideas off of, I would really appreciate that!


	2. Wasn't It Beautiful When You Believed In Everything?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Train Ride to Hogwarts-we meet Theo, Hannah and Pansy, and find out some interesting things about the Weasleys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response on the last chapter! I was seriously blown away by everybody-I wasn't expecting much of anything and I was blown out of the water! Thank you all so much for the 25 kudos! I hope you enjoy the next chapter-Pansy is so much fun to write haha.
> 
> TW: Mention of forced/involuntary miscarriage
> 
> EDITED: 1/15/2021

Draco strode down the train corridor, scorning each compartment at the slightest flaw. “Chipped paint... too close to the bathroom... already has someone in it-here!” He stopped abruptly at a compartment about halfway through the carriage and held the door for the girls. Daphne and Hermione slipped past him and Draco followed them in 

“Drake?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me put my trunk on the rack? I’m not tall enough to reach the overhead compartment.”

“You know, when we come home for Christmas, we’re going to be able to levitate them up, if we want to,” Daphne noted, “They teach the Levitation spell in one of the first Charms classes.”

“I’m guessing you coordinated who’s sitting with us?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, “Pansy, Hannah, Theo, and us three.”

“That’s two guys and four girls!” Draco protested.

“So? Why does that matter? We’ve all known each other since we were babies, and who else would I even put in?”

“I dunno, Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose, “Over Hannah or Pansy? I think not. Greg and Vince are sweet, but Pansy and Hannah are my best friends.”

“Hey!” Draco and Daphne exclaimed at the same time.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Daphne, you’re my  _ twin, _ I think that’s a step above best friend. Draco you’re one of my best guy friends.”

“Should I assume I’m the other?” came a voice from the doorway. 

Hermione swung round and Daphne exclaimed, “Theo!” 

The lanky dark-haired boy was leaning on the door frame, his lips curled in a smirk. He hugged Daphne-Hermione turned to Draco and both rolled their eyes-and pushed his trunk up onto the overhead compartment, before taking a seat next to Daphne. 

“How are you guys doing?” he asked.

Daphne shot up in excitement, “Daddy got Mia and me a camera and tons and tons of film so we can take pictures!”

“Are you going to be sending them to ‘Stori?” Theo asked. Daphne nodded her head.

“Before I forget,” Daphne said, “Hannah owled me last night and told me that her and Pans were going to be coming together, so they’ll show up at the same time. I  _ also _ have a surprise for when they show up.” She winked at Hermione.

“You’re going to leave us in suspense?” Draco splayed his hand over his chest, “How  _ could  _ you?”

“This is Daphne. She likes being dramatic,” Theo laughed.

“What  _ is  _ it with everyone insulting me today?” Daphne demanded.

“What can we say? You’re easy to make fun of,” Draco teased. Daphne stuck out her tongue. 

“Who’s easy to make fun of?” Pansy asked, her black hair cut in a stylish bob. Beside her was a girl with hair the color of sunshine and big green eyes.

“Hannah! Pansy!” Hermione beamed, “You’re here!”

“Of course we’re here,” Hannah chuckled, “Where else would we be?”

“I dunno, I was worried you’d be late,” Hermione said, “Sit down, will you?

“Hermione, you worry too much sometimes,” Hannah softly chastised, flopping into a seat beside Theo.

“We were never going to be _ late. _ Who do you think we are, the Weasleys?” Pansy giggled.

“Pansy!” Hannah exclaimed, though her words lacked any heat.

“What?” asked Pansy, “I’m telling the truth! My cousin Terrence is a seventh year, and he says every single year, the Weasleys almost miss the train.”

“Well, half the reason, I think,” Draco interjected, “Is because they pissed off Lady Magic.” 

“I don’t think it’s the kids’ fault, I mean it’s hardly like they can  _ make  _ their parents appease Lady Magic,” Hermione frowned.

“Appeasing Lady Magic is half believing in Her and half being a good person and using magic to help others” Daphne murmured, “It’s not very hard.”

“Well, yeah, how would they know that?” asked Hannah, “I mean it’s not like they’d ask any of us about it, even if they did know we practice Magic.”

“I think everyone kind of knows our families practice Magic. Most Pureblood families worth their salt do,” Pansy sniffed.

“But can you see any of the Weasleys approaching the Malfoys to ask about Lady Magic?” Hermione’s voice morphed into an impression of Arthur Weasley, “Hello Mr. Lucius Malfoy, I, Arthur Weasley, lover of all things muggle, would like to ask you about Lady Magic! It’s not like we have a blood feud between our families or anything or like Dumbledore, who I would  _ follow off of a cliff,  _ believes that Magic is Dark, so therefore it is bad and evil!”

The compartment fell about laughing. Draco’s voice grew deeper as he tried to mimic his father, “Arthur, old chap, I would be  _ delighted _ to teach you about Magic! You would very much believe me, of course, and then the pox cast upon your family by Lady Magic for turning away from her will end. You will be rich, your wife will be less of a shrew, and you will get out of your absolute dead end job! All will be forgiven!” The laughter increased, until everyone had tears streaming down their faces.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed, “Here they come, look! Someone check their watch. We should record this every year! I’d wager 5 galleons one of them will miss the train next year.”

“Deal,” Draco shook Daphne’s hand. Pansy pulled out a ledger of paper and a quill and wrote down the bet, and at the same time, the train started to move. 

“Are you going to keep a record of all our bets this year?” Theo asked.

“Yeah,” Pansy shrugged, “Figure it’ll be kind of fun to look back on one day.. Plus, I’ve got the neatest handwriting.”

“Hey, do you guys know how many people are in each dorm room?” asked Hannah.

“Well, I know in Slytherin, it’s three to a room, but sometimes people do groups of four and sometimes groups of two. Depends on how the sorting shakes out and who wants to room with who,” Hermione looked thoughtful, “What house do you think you guys will be in?”

“Slytherin,” Draco said confidently, “Every Malfoy is a Slytherin.”

“Slytherin,” said Pansy.

“Probably either Ravenclaw or Slytherin,” Daphne scrunched up her face in thought.

“I’m gonna go wherever Daphne goes,” Theo admitted sheepishly. 

“Soulmates usually do, don’t they?” Hannah wondered aloud.

“Yeah, I think so, and so do twins,” Hermione nodded, “So I’m probably going to be Ravenclaw or Slytherin too. And even if twins can end up in separate houses, we’re too similar to not go to the same house. Besides, I’m not about to spend seven years in a House without my sister.”

Hannah looked a bit upset, “I think I’m gonna be in Hufflepuff. Both of my parents were Puffs, but I don’t want to be all alone without you guys.”

Hermione hugged Hannah, “That’s ok, even if we all end up in Slytherin and you don’t, we’ll always save room for you.”

“You promise you guys won’t forget me?” Hannah looked up.

“Promise. Plus, Mum told me that even if you’re in separate houses, as long as it’s not the Start of Term or the Leaving feast, you can sit with whoever you want. And I heard Hufflepuff’s dorms are by the kitchen and Daddy said that the House Elves will fix you up with food whenever you want, so Merlin knows Draco and Theo will be that over that way pretty often.”

“Hey!” protested Draco. He looked at Theo for backup.

“I already know I’m planning to go to the kitchens, I’m not at all offended over that,” laughed Theo, “Plus, Hannah’s the nicest one of all of us by far. You’re too nice to be a snake, Han. That’s not a bad thing,” he added hastily, as Hannah shot him an injured look, “It’s just how you are.”

“Thanks everyone,” Hannah’s smile returned to her face, “You know, I was thinking last night. Harry Potter is going to be in our year. What do you think he’s going to be like?”

“He’s going to be a Gryffindor,” Draco said, making a face, “I saw him in Madame Malkins and he was walking around with Hagrid, the groundskeeper.” 

“That doesn’t make sense, wouldn’t his guardians take him?” asked Hermione.

“Maybe they’re Muggles. I think I heard that Lily Evans Potter had a sister,” Daphne commented.

“Wonder if he knew anything about magic before? Or if he knows about Magic?”

“Doubtful,” Draco said, “Whoever he got put with was someone approved by Dumbledore, and we all know he wouldn’t put him with a family that believed in Lady Magic.”

“You know what’s really weird?” Hannah said thoughtfully, “My dad said that Muggleborns always get introduced to the Wizarding World by a teacher. It’s usually one of the Heads of Houses, like Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape.”

“What? But then why would they send the  _ groundskeeper _ instead, who’s also, um I don’t know,  _ half-giant _ ?” Pansy grimaced, “I mean, it’s not like they send Flitwick. Even if he is Head of Ravenclaw, he’s too short to blend in ‘cos he’s half goblin, and I’d imagine they’d want to give a Muggleborn as smooth a transition into our world as possible.”

“You know,” Theo said, “My dad went to Hogwarts back in the 40s. He mentioned once that Hagrid went there too, but he got expelled and his wand got snapped.”

“Why would they send a half-giant groundskeeper who can’t even do magic to pick up the  _ saviour of the wizarding world, _ as they like to think of him?” Daphne asked incredulously, “I mean, okay, the teachers might have been busy preparing for the start of term, but couldn’t they have sent someone who’s on the Board of Governors, like Uncle Lucius?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to Draco. “I have no idea, don’t ask me! I’m just still hung up on the idea of Uncle Severus introducing a Muggle-born to the wizarding world. I would empty one of my trust funds to see that,” Draco chuckled, then his voice turned deep and drawl-y, “Yes, Mister Green, you are a wizard. How many times am I going to have to repeat it to get it through your head, you blithering idiot? You want a display of magic? I’m rather inclined to conjure a vase so I can use it to knock some sense into your thick skull.”

Hermione snickered, “Snape is pretty scary when he’s acting all mean. I much prefer him when he’s actually being normal.”

Draco laughed, “I think everybody does. Could you imagine going to him for help as your Head of House and getting the version of himself he is if he doesn’t know you? I would rather not go!”

Hannah’s brows furrowed, “I hope he isn’t super mean to me, I mean there’s no way I’m going to be in Slytherin.”

“Don’t worry,” Hermione soothed, “Worrying’s my job. And anyway, he already knows and likes you, so even if he is acting mean, he’ll be half-decent to you, at least in comparison.”

“Yeah,” said Draco, “He’ll be all like ‘Miss Abbott, I must congratulate you for being the only one in your entire House to show at least a minimal modicum of intelligence. Perhaps one day you will amount to something marginally less useless than your classmates.’”

Hannah giggled, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Five galleons says that he absolutely despises Potter,” Hermione bit her lip.

“Deal,” Theo reached out to shake her hand.

“Come on, Theo, you know you’re going to lose that bet!” Daphne chided.

“Yeah, Theo, that was a total suckers bet,” smirked Pansy.

“Sure, but what if Potter was raised in a household that are whizzes at potions?” Theo asked.

“Seriously?” Pansy asked.

“Whatever, it’s only five galleons,” shrugged Theo, “Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing Potter get dressed down. I’ll bet that kid’s never had a single person be anything but sunshine and roses to him because he’s the saviour of the wizarding world, and the Boy -Who-Lived and all that junk.”

“Ugh, I find that  _ so  _ annoying!” groaned Hermione, “It’s not like  _ he  _ did anything, he was a baby! I mean, we all know that it was the Sacrificial Blood Ritual that Lily Evans Potter did that was the only  _ actually  _ impressive thing of the night.”

“I take you read a biography on her recently?” Hannah asked wryly.

“Yeah, there was a new one at Flourish and Blotts when we bought our books, but she was really impressive and crazy smart. I think she should’ve been a Slytherin, even though she was a Muggleborn. I get why she wasn’t, though. I mean, as much as Slytherin is unfairly stereotyped as being anti-Muggleborn now, it was even worse back then.”

“I skimmed that biography on her,” Pansy shrugged, “I saw it the last time you dragged me into Flourish and Blotts and thought it looked interesting, so I gave it a quick look through. I mean, I had to connect half of the dots for myself, they didn’t outright  _ say _ the ritual she used, but if you knew what you were looking for, you could find it. Anyway, I think it’s kind of stupid that one of the few powerful Magic practising Muggleborns went and got herself killed for a son that’s probably walking around with a head the size of Hogwarts.” 

“I’m not going to go around the train looking for him, but I’m going to try and introduce myself to him when we get to the castle,” Draco announced. He looked around at everyone’s incredulous looks. “What? Father said he could be a useful ally to have. I mean none of us have to  _ like  _ him.”

“If you invite him into the Slytherin common room or to study with us in the library or to eat at our table with us, Draco, I will kill you,” snarled Pansy, “The kid is going to be a Gryffindor brat, mark my words, and he won’t even  _ associate  _ with anyone or anything below him.”

“Below him? The Malfoys are richer than the Potters, and since nobody’s been in charge of the Potter estates or business holds for the past, like,  _ decade _ , the Greengrasses have surpassed the Potters and the Notts are going to soon. Hell, by the time second year is over, if Potter doesn’t hire someone to do his money and businesses for him, the Longbottoms, Rosiers and Parkinsons will surpass him easily. And with the way Mr. Abbott’s Herbology business is going, the Abbotts will pass them too. He’s going to be bleeding money and he probably won’t even know,” Draco scoffed.

“No, idiot,” Pansy scowled, “Below him as in ‘evil’ or ‘dark’. He’s gonna be Dumbledore’s little golden boy..”

“Draco, how do you even know the Potters are losing money?” Theo asked curiously.

“Well,” Draco’s whisper turned conspiratorial , “Let’s just say Father has an in with the Goblins, and he probably knows more about the Potter accounts than  _ Potter  _ does. Although, that probably isn’t hard, because, as we’ve established, Potter probably knows nothing, I mean heck, for all we know, he could’ve learned his manners, how to be a Lord, and about his finances from the Weasleys. Or Merlin Forbid, the  _ gamekeeper. _ ”

“An in?” Hermione questioned.

“He’s pushing a law through the Wizengamot that will let them protect the bank on the inside literally however they want to. That’s not something any of us need to worry about, seeing as we’re not stupid enough to try and rob Gringotts. I think they also want to have a stipulation that says you have to have a deposit of a minimum of a hundred galleons to have an account, at least for a family. My father’s pushing that through as well. Again, none of us really have to worry about it.”

“You know, the Weasley’s are totally going to get kicked out of Gringotts then,” Pansy noted.

“Why  _ is  _ it that the Weasley’s are…well, as poor as they are?” asked Hannah.

“Your mum never told you about the Weasley Magic divide?” Daphne gasped. When Hannah shook her head in confusion, Daphne gasped again. “Ok, well it’s a long story, so settle in while we tell you about… the Weasleys.” Pansy flickered the lights ominously. Before Daphne could start, a shadow passed the door. Pansy flung it open to see the Trolley Lady with a Trolley decidedly lacking in… everything. 

“What?” Draco looked in confusion, “Where are the sweets?”

The Trolley Lady said, “A compartment with two young boys bought out my whole cart,” and she continued walking through the train hallway.

Theo’s face darkened, “Bunch of tossers. Who buys out the whole cart and leaves nothing for anyone else?” 

“Oh!” cried out Hermione, “I almost forgot! Mippie packed us practically a  _ feast _ !” She pulled out the chilled bag and started unpacking the sweets inside. Once everything was out on the table-and almost spilling over-Hermione looked up at Daphne. “Are you going to tell Hannah the story or not?” 

Hannah looked up alertly, chewing on a cookie. Daphne nodded, “Yeah, but I was going to eat something first.” When Hannah turned injured eyes on her, she sighed, “Oh all right, I’ll just pop some of the sorted Bertie Bott’s Beans while I tell the story to hold me over, then. You all  _ better  _ leave at least one of everything for me.”

“Like we could all finish it,” snorted Draco, “Merlin bless your house elves, I love them.”

Daphne smirked, “Everyone does. Well, I’m going to start the story if there aren’t any more interruptions.” She looked around pointedly, and they all rolled their eyes but nodded all the same,. “Good. Well it all starts back in the forties when Septimus Weasley was helping clean up the continent after Grindelwald lost the war. Apparently, he followed Lady Magic, but you wouldn’t believe it by his actions. While in France, where the damages were some of the worst, he got angry that he was sent by the Ministry to clean up a mess he didn’t care about. He tried to have his boss send him back to England, but his boss said no. I mean, Weasley was in the International Relations Department,so this was kind of a big part of his job. So, Septimus got angry. Instead of returning all the jewelry and family heirlooms that were still intact in the destroyed houses to the owners, he kept them. And not just that. He would crack open hidden safes and take the money for himself. He’d even take wands that Wizards had left behind-cracked ones, new ones, whatever. He would take anything he could get his hands on. 

“This, of course, greatly angered Lady Magic, so she exposed him to his boss. His boss was so angry-and rightfully so-that he had Septimus stay for another three months without pay. I mean,  _ nothing _ , not even minimum wage. And they wrote down a list of every single item he stole - it took a lot of Veritaserum to make him list  _ everything _ \- and made him give back everything to the families and then pay them half of what each item was worth as well. And if he’d lost or sold the item, he had to pay the families back double what the item was worth. The Weasley’s  _ had  _ been a fairly well-to-do family before this, but this completely emptied out their Gringotts account.”

Hannah gasped and Daphne smirked.

“Oh, but the story doesn’t end there. That night, he went to a brothel, despite having a pregnant wife and a son. He slept with this one girl, and a month and a half later, turns out she’s pregnant. Poor thing was barely even twenty, and he was double her age. She wanted to keep the baby. She viewed it as a gift from Lady Magic, ‘cos she’d always wanted a child. It didn’t matter to her who the father was. In fact, she was more than happy to have him leave her be and just pay some child support, but when she told him about a month later after having to track him down, he got so angry that he cursed her with a spell so that she’d lose the baby. She ended up infertile because he cursed her too late in the pregnancy for that specific spell. There’s different spells for different levels of development, and you really aren’t supposed to use any of them outside of that specific window, and, if you have absolutely no choice you really should get a Healer or something to do it.” Daphne paused to take a breath and popped a strawberry Bertie Botts’ Bean in her mouth before going on, “Anyways, it turns out the girl was one of Lady Magic’s special Muggleborns-you know, the ones that pop out of nowhere instead of coming from a line of squibs. Well, the point is, Lady Magic got really  _ really  _ mad at Septimus, so he retaliated by declaring that he didn’t believe in Her and stopped practising. He even desecrated and looted one of Her shrines on the continent. So She decides that she’s going to put him down, hard. First, she decided that he and his descendants would never prosper financially, in fact, they would struggle to make ends meet in the very best of times, in retribution for his stealing. In return for his cheating and cursing one of Her Muggle-borns to be infertile, she cursed him and his descendents to have more children than they wanted or could ever hope to afford. And finally, because he turned his back on Lady Magic, Lady Magic would never turn her back on him, but like in the worst ways you could think of. He and his descendents would be plagued by terrible luck.”

Hannah’s eyes were wide, “But what about the good Weasleys? Not all of them can be bad, right?”

“Well,” Daphne amended, “Mum says that Lady Magic judges their souls. They’ve got until their fifteenth birthday to prove that they’re a good person, and the sooner they do it, the sooner they lose the curse. Even though the curse for the kids doesn’t really do all that much, it’s like a miniature version. But I know that one of the Weasley’s, I think his name was Richard Weasley, he was such an awful person that Lady Magic gave him the full Weasley Curse halfway through second year.”

“What did he do?” asked Hannah.

“He pushed my dad’s little sister down a flight of stairs while they were moving,” frowned Draco, “Just ‘cause she was a Slytherin. She was in her first year, too. Aunt Rosalind got really hurt. My grandparents transferred her to Beauxbatons to get her away from the arsehole. They almost transferred my dad to Durmstrang, but he was in his fifth year, so there wasn’t really too much of a point transferring him so late in his school career. The Malfoys and the Weasleys didn’t really like each other much before, but the whole Blood Feud had kind of died down in intensity. When that happened, it came back in full force, and the Malfoys have been actively trying to ruin Weasley lives ever since.”

“Merlin,” Hannah breathed, “Is your Aunt Rosalind okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, she lives in some apartment in Wizarding Paris and paints,” Draco snorted, “And she owns like four cats. We don’t tell people that though, just in case it ever got back to the Weasleys..”

“And all of you knew this?” Hannah looked around the compartment.

“Yeah,” Theo said, “That’s why we call Weasleys Blood Traitors. They betrayed Lady Magic, the very essence of themselves, the reason they’re alive. Though I didn’t know the bit about your Aunt Rosalind’s Parisian art and her four cats, Draco,” Theo laughed.

“I did,” snorted Hermione, “He visited her once a couple years ago, and do you know who he complained about it to for  _ weeks? _ Me. So yeah, I know more than enough about Whiskers, Sir Gato, Mister Mistachio, and Priscilla, thank you very much.”

“It’s not like you didn’t spend the same summer whining on and on about how your library didn’t have  _ one  _ book that you wanted and you couldn’t find it anywhere in England so you had to wait two weeks for it to ship from the furthest reaches of Merlin-knows-where in  _ Russia, _ ” Draco shot back.

“I never claimed I was innocent,” Hermione sniffed, “Just that you were guilty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did y'all think about this chapter? Next up is the Sorting Ceremony!


	3. Incredible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorting ceremony!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued positivity! All my love to y'all
> 
> Edited 1/15/2021

Dusk was settling upon the Scotland countryside when the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Clambering off the train, Hermione heard a deep voice yelling, “Firs’ years over here!” and turned to see a man around eight feet tall. 

“That must be Hagrid, then,” Hermione whispered to Daphne.

“Unless they make a habit of employing half-giants,” Daphne murmured back.

“I’ve never really understood when and why you guys do the whole fake snooty thing,” Hannah frowned, “You guys let it down when it’s either in a setting with people you know, or when you’re out on your own, but when you’re out with your parents, you’re all doing the mask thing. Why do you have to do it as a family, but not when you’re on your own?”

“When we’re out as a family, we need to look like a unit and uphold the family image,” Hermione explained

“But when we’re separate, we don’t have to do that, as long as we don’t act foolishly or do something stupid,” finished Daphne.

“What about Pansy then?” Hannah asked.

“I’ve got an RBF,” Pansy said slyly.

Hannah scrunched her nose. “What’s an RBF?”

Pansy smirked. “Resting Bitch Face.”  
Hannah swatted Pansy’s arm-“Language!”-before her face cracked into a grin and giggles spilled from her.

The four followed the groundskeeper to the lake, where boats were waiting. “No more’n four’n a boat!” the half-giant boomed. Hermione gathered her robes into her hands so they wouldn’t touch the dark water, and stepped into a boat. She gave Daphne a hand to help her on, while Hannah scrambled to the front of the boat and Pansy took the back. Once all of them were sitting down, their boat started to move slowly off of the shore. Hermione squinted through the dusky darkness to find Draco and Theo in a boat with Vincent and Greg. 

The girls spoke in hushed whispers until the castle came into view. Hannah gaped openly, and, despite themselves, Hermione and Daphne weren’t much better. Pansy sat in the back examining her nails. “What? We’ve all seen castles before. Honestly, I think the ones in Germany that we saw a few weeks back on the girls trip were prettier,” she said snidely, but the small gleam in her eyes betrayed her. Hermione felt a short bump as the boat made landfall, and Hannah jumped out of the boat, only just restraining herself from dancing around in excitement. Hermione exchanged an amused glance with Daphne, before following her ecstatic friend up to the castle as Pansy fell into step beside her. 

“Haven’t seen Han this excited since we went to the Weird Sisters concert,” Pansy snorted.

Once they reached the doors to Hogwarts, Hagrid knocked thrice on the castle door, and the doors swung open. Professor McGonagall stood in the entryway; Hermione had seen her a few times at various Ministry Gatherings, usually the ones that had to do with education. She was rather distinguished in appearance-and in demeanor, if the stories her cousin Emmeline had told her were true. If that was the case, Hermione thought she rather admired the woman. The half-giant and the witch seemed to be talking about something, but Hermione didn’t particularly care what. What she did care about was where Draco was, and currently, that was with Theo, right next to Harry Potter and a red-head, who must’ve been a Weasley, offering his hand in friendship, she supposed.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, Malfoy, thanks,” the dark-haired wizarding phenomenon glared. To his credit, Draco’s face didn’t fall, but she could see the flush of pink in his cheeks at the public rejection. Before he could respond, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and started talking about the Houses of Hogwarts. Draco and Theo discreetly wove their way through the crowd to where the four girls were standing. 

“Don’t worry about it Drake, he’s a right prat,” Hermione muttered.

“To be so blunt in public though? Has he no manners?” Draco asked, a bit bewildered.

“Of course he doesn’t. I told you, he’s a Gryffindor without anything else in him. All foolhardy bravery without the brains to back it up,” said Pansy.

“Hear hear,” Daphne murmured. 

McGonagall's speech ended and she turned around, leaving the chamber, as everyone broke into whispers of how they would be sorted. Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. Did their parents not tell them? All because it was  _ tradition  _ to be surprised? It was trying on a bloody thousand-year-old hat! And even if they  _ didn’t  _ know, it wouldn’t be anything dangerous-they weren’t even supposed to know magic yet! Key words being supposed to, Hermione snickered inwardly. Most Purebloods and Half-bloods already knew their fair share of magic, from Herbology to Potions to Basic Defence-come on, who  _ didn’t _ teach their children how to defend themselves with a wand as soon as they got their hands on one? There were some families, Hermione supposed, who might not know that the Trace was linked to location, and in a magical household, who knew who was casting what? And anyway, even if she, Daphne or Astoria did set the Trace off, Father would just hire the family lawyer or move some money around and it wouldn’t even go on their record. No big deal. 

Pansy snickered, “Did you just hear that?” Hermione shook her head. “The Weasley in our year - Merlin knows how they could afford to send him, but that’s beside the point - he thinks when we get sorted, it’ll hurt. How dumb can you  _ get _ ?”

Daphne nodded, “And get this. One of his _ brothers _ told him. I don’t even  _ know  _ the Weasley kids, but I’m well aware that the pair of twins are known for being pranksters. Emmeline thinks they’re really annoying. So,  _ I  _ know that, and I’ve not met them, and he’s known them his whole life and still takes their words at face value? Merlin above, he’s an idiot.”

Daphne turned to Hannah, who said, “I hope he’s not a Hufflepuff. Some people say that Hufflepuff will take dumb people who don’t fit in anywhere else.I don’t want that to be true, I want people to be Puffs because they’re nice and what Helga Hufflepuff would’ve wanted her house to be like.”

“Don’t worry,” Hermione soothed, “Weasleys are always Gryffindors.”

“How red do you think his face would go if he got sorted somewhere else?” Draco wondered aloud, “Maybe the same color as his hair?”

“Not possible,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “The house thing, not the hair. I think that’ll be my own personal project for the next year. He’s not smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, not if what we’ve seen so far is any indication. No Weasley is loyal enough for Hufflepuff. And there’s no way he would be a Slytherin. So that leaves Gryffindor.”

“I think it’s a bit unfair, categorising all the Weasleys to be bad just because their father or grandfather was,” Hannah admitted.

“That’s because you’re too nice, Hannah. Guilty until proven innocent, I say,” Daphne sniffed, “It’s not like they ever make an effort to change the way people think of them.”

“And I don’t think the apple falls far from the tree. Father says Arthur Weasley is dimmer than a Deluminator and Molly Weasley is about as nasty as they come. I met her once and that was more than enough for me,” Draco’s nose twitched.

“You’ll have to tell me that story sometime,” Hermione flashed Draco a surprised look, “But Hannah is a little right I guess.” At everyone’s looks she threw her hands in the air,, “I’m just saying, if a Weasley got sorted into Slytherin, I’d bet they’d at least be a little alright. Or even just not a complete berk. There’s got to be  _ some  _ decent people in there, right? The exceptions who prove the rule?”

Draco shrugged and Pansy looked thoughtful. Hermione was about to gauge Daphne’s expression when she heard several shrieks behind her. The group turned around to see a myriad of ghosts gliding through the chamber.

“Merlin, Circe and Morgana help me!” Pansy rolled her eyes, “I recognize every single person freaking out over the ghost. That means none of them are Muggleborn. If the Muggleborns, who are  _ quite new _ to this world and have very much never seen a ghost before, or a half-giant, or self-moving magical boats, can keep themselves from screaming and freaking out, you’d think Mr. My-Family’s-Been-Pure-For-Nine-Generations-Ernie-MacMillan, could maybe, just  _ maybe _ , calm the hell down?”

“Language, Pans,” Hannah nudged her, “But you’re right. I think he’s maybe doing it to freak out the Muggleborns. Or maybe he’s just seeking attention.”

Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted their thoughts, as she called for people to form a line. Once it was formed, they started shuffling forward. They walked into the Great Hall, where hundreds of faces were staring at the line of kids. Hermione sought out Emmeline, and caught her eye. Her cousin winked and mouthed ‘good luck!’. Hermione smiled, and continued to scan the hall, taking in everyone’s faces, if she knew them, what family they were from, and what they were doing. Her prestigious memory was working overtime, filing away information, all in the blink of an eye. She returned her eyes to Professor McGonagall, who was setting up the Sorting Hat on a table that was next to a stool. The Sorting Hat came to life and began to sing.

“Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!”   
  


Hermione thought it was cute, if rather cheesy and she clapped along with everyone else. Professor McGonagall stepped forward and said “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah blanched at having to go first. She stepped out of the line, a bit wobbly in the knees, and Hermione squeezed her shoulder. She put on the hat, and after a brief pause, the hat called out “HUFFLEPUFF!” Hermione clapped as loudly as she could and beamed at Hannah. The Sorting continued in alphabetical order and Hermione took mental notes as to where everyone was placed. The first Slytherin was Millicent Bulstrode, a Half-blood, and one she knew well enough she supposed. Tracey Davis, another acquaintance-Half-blood-, also went to Slytherin. Vincent Crabbe went to Slytherin, which didn’t surprise Hermione in the slightest. Justin Finch-Fletchey - a Hufflepuff - was the first person Hermione didn’t know, so he was either a non-influential Half-blood or a Muggleborn. 

“Greengrass, Daphne!” Professor McGonagall called out. Daphne walked up to the hat gracefully, and put it on as delicately as one would a crown. Hermione held her breath. 

“SLYTHERIN!” cried out the hat.  _ Slytherin it is then, _ Hermione thought to herself.

“Greengrass, Hermione!” She walked up to the stool and sat down primly, crossing her ankles, and placing the hat on her head with as much poise as she could muster. This would be the first impression she made on some people, so it had to be a good one.

She heard a small voice in her ear, and almost jumped. “Ah, you’re an interesting one, aren’t you? You have the nerve of a Gryffindor, the brains of a Ravenclaw, the diligence of a Hufflepuff, and yet you are as cunning as a Slytherin and just as ambitious as one too! Now where to put you?”

_ Put me with my sister, _ Hermione thought.

“Well, then-SLYTHERIN!” the hat cried out to the Hall. Hermione took the hat off her head, smiling inwardly at the applause, and noting the beam in her sister’s eye, before she joined her at the Slytherin table. Daphne squeezed her hand tightly and whispered in her ear,

“I’m really glad you’re with me.”

“Me too,” Hermione whispered back.

She looked back up at the hat to see Gregory Goyle join the Slytherin table, and continued mentally categorizing each Sorting. 

Neville Longbottom, a boy Hermione had had interesting conversations about plants with at a few parties, went to Gryffindor - _ shame _ , thought Hermione, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from retaining her acquaintance with the boy, or from starting one with Lavender Brown, whom she hadn’t ever spoken to, but had seen at least a handful of times. 

“Malfoy, Draco!” Professor McGonagall said.

Draco swaggered towards the stool, and put the hat on. It was on for maybe a second or two, if that, before shouting out “SLYTHERIN!” Hermione cheered him, and he grinned as he sat down.

“Come on, as if there were ever any doubt.”

After Lily Moon went to Gryffindor, Theo was called. 

“Slytherin, Slytherin, come on, Slytherin,” Daphne whispered to herself, as she closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

Daphne was probably the loudest cheerer for Theo as he sat down at the table across from her, next to Draco. 

“Parkinson, Pansy!” The group looked up at Pansy who was walking up to the stool. She met their eyes and rolled her own before placing the hat on her head. It cried out Slytherin, and as she lifted the hat off her head, she winked at her friends waiting in Slytherin. 

“Well, that’s all of us,” she said as she sat down next to Hermione, “I wish Hannah was with us, but she doesn’t have a Slytherin bone in her body.” Pansy smiled broadly at Hannah who gave two thumbs up and mouthed ‘I’m ok!’ before gesturing towards Susan Bones, her cousin, who was sitting next to her. 

“It’s good that Hannah has Susan with her,” Daphne said, “I know they’re pretty tight, so she’ll be alright in the classes that Hufflepuff doesn’t have with Slytherin.”

“Potter, Harry!” was called out, as the boy walked towards the hat. After a few seconds pause, he was made a Gryffindor.

“Wow,” said Theo. Pansy looked at him incredulously, and Theo put his hands up, “I thought it was going to be instantaneous. He screams Gryffindor.”

“Maybe the Hat was saying it was going to put him in Slytherin,” Hermione said, as all eyes turned to her, “Hey, if I was a dusty old hat that was a thousand years old, and the only thing that I ever did was sort a bunch of kids into four houses every year, I know I’d mess with them-it’d be funny! I mean these are the only conversations he gets, like, ever. He’s got to have a sense of humour.”

The table burst into laughter, and Hermione smiled inwardly as she noticed that several of her older housemates sitting near her that had overheard were laughing too. She looked over to the Gryffindor table to see absolute pandemonium. Some people were chanting “We got Potter,” like it was some big prize or even like it was a surprise he would go to Gryffindor. You didn’t have to be a seer to see that one coming. When the hall finally settled down, the sorting continued with Dean Thomas, another Gryffindor. Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, and Ronald Weasley-“so that’s his name,” Theo whispered-went to, big shock, Gryffindor, and sat next to Potter. Draco rolled his eyes. Finally, a dark-skinned boy-Blaise Zabini, came to Slytherin. 

Hermione looked up at the High Table, where Dumbledore was standing now.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

“Ha ha,” Pansy deadpanned.

Then the food arrived, and Hermione surveyed the food with distaste, before her eyes landed on a plate of salmon, which she grabbed, as well as some corn and carrots. Daphne grabbed the plate of salmon when Hermione was done taking some of the fish off of it.

The girls looked at each other knowingly. “This is… fattening,” Pansy managed to say.

Tracey Davis, a tall girl with chestnut colored hair and brown eyes, was a seat or two down nodded, “Tell me about it. You’re telling me we have three different cuts of pig meat, but no pasta whatsoever, or sushi, or soup?” The girl flushed, “I’m Tracey Davis by the way.”

Millicent Bulstrode, a girl with dark hair and blue eyes and wide shoulders, offered a smile, “I’m Millicent Bulstrode, but everyone just calls me Millie. I’m not exactly sure what to do-I’m vegetarian so other than potatoes there’s not really anything that’s like an actual dinner that I can even have.”

Pansy groaned, “Hannah’s vegetarian and she  _ hates  _ potatoes. Merlin, I hope she has something to eat.” Hermione looked at Hannah who was staring down at her plate and pushing around some vegetables around her plate a bit dejectedly. She looked up to meet the Slytherins’ gaze and scrunched up her face, mouthing ‘What am I supposed to eat?’ Hermione looked up at the High Table, where all of the teachers were invested in eating and their conversation, although Professor Snape was looking around at the hallway. He met the eyes of Hermione and raised an eyebrow. Hermione gestured to Hannah and Millie. The professor grimaced.

“Here, we can figure it out with Professor Snape tonight?” Hermione suggested, “I’m Hermione Greengrass by the way. That’s my twin, Daphne, and this is Pansy Parkinson. Theodore Nott is the boy with the dark curly hair currently engaged with Draco Malfoy, the platinum-blond across from me, in a  _ fascinating  _ quidditch debate. Vincent Crabbe is sitting on the other side of Draco and Gregory Goyle is next to him, but everyone just calls him Greg.”

Draco and Theo looked up in response to their names.

“Quidditch  _ is  _ fascinating,” Draco protested.

“Eh,” Hermione shrugged.

Draco looked affronted, “Are you not going to go to the Quidditch Matches?”

“Well,” Hermione said, “The ones Slytherin plays. House Pride and all that.”

“Would you come for me if I played for the team?” asked Draco.

“Well, duh, of course I would. But it’s not like you’re going to be on the team this year, first years aren’t even allowed their own brooms, and who’d want to try out on a  _ school  _ broom? You know what horror stories Emmeline’s told us about those”

“You know,” Daphne said, “Emmeline said she’s going to try out for Beater this year. She’s in third year and she’s got a Nimbus 1999, not to mention she’s really good.. I think she’ll make it.”

About twenty minutes later, the dinners were replaced by desserts. Hermione saw Hannah look relieved, and she took a large slice of a peach pie. 

“Hey, Millie,” Hermione said, “Maybe you can have a really big slice of one of the fruit pies to fill you up? I mean it’s dessert, not dinner, but it’s only for one night, and you really ought to eat something.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Millie smiled.

Daphne took a slice of chocolate cake, Draco was chewing on one of four chocolate eclairs, Pansy was popping macrons in her mouth, and Theo was eating a jellied doughnut. Hermione took some of the strawberry ice cream, and started working on getting through that. Once everyone was finished, the desserts disappeared, and Dumbledore, once again, rose to his feet. 

“I hope this speech is better than the other one was,” Hermione murmured.

“I hope it’s just as short if not shorter, I don’t really care about the content. Not like I’m going to care about what Dumbledore says,” snorted Draco.

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you,” began Dumbledore, “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Pansy and Draco both made a show of rolling their eyes. “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

“Circe,  _ why _ would he say that? That’s like putting a sign over it saying, Harry Potter and Gryffindors, enter here!” Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose, “And look at Potter! He’s laughing!” Sure enough, the Gryffindor had let out a laugh at Dumbledore’s words.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore said. Hermione noted that the Professors’ smiles had become strained, as Dumbledore cast a ribbon into the air to display the words. “Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!”

Hermione looked around wildly, and noticed nobody at the Slytherin table was singing, just mouthing the words, if at all. At least half of the Ravenclaws were doing the same, and even some of the Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors, though, were all singing along, rather loudly. The Weasley twins were the last to finish, singing to the tune of a funeral march-that was to say, exacerbating slowly.

“Ah music,” said Dumbledore, “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

“What are we, horses?” asked Theo.

“First years, this way!” a girl with long dark curly hair called out. The group of first years crowded around her and another boy, both wearing prefixes badges. “Follow me,” said the girl, speaking rapidly, as she led them through the Great Hall and down a staircase. “I’m Carrine Perot, the fifth year Slytherin prefect. This is Thomas Yaxley,” she said, gesturing at the boy by her side, “Fifth year prefects are in charge of the first years, so we’ll be your year’s prefects up until you start your fourth year, when we will have graduated, and you will be enjoying the last year before you have to worry about OWLs. The ghost that you probably saw pass by our table is the Bloody Baron. Don’t let the blood and expression scare you, he’s really rather nice to Slytherins. He’s really good at History of Magic and he also knows a lot about Astronomy, so if you need tutoring or help in those subjects, go to him and he’ll be happy to help you. He’s also great at scaring Peeves off-he’s the poltergeist-so if you ever have to deal with Peeves like  _ ever,  _ just threaten him with the Bloody Baron and he’ll know to leave you be from then on. He usually leaves Slytherins alone because he doesn’t want to set off the Bloody Baron, but sometimes he forgets or he fancies himself brave enough and thinks we’re stupid enough to not know how to get rid of him.”

“We’re going to go over house rules and some fun Slytherin tips and tricks when we get to the common room, Professor Snape, our Head of House will be there too, so he’ll probably say a few words,” Thomas added “In the meantime, just pay attention to where we’re going, so you don’t get too lost. If you do, ask a nearby Slytherin for help. Students in other houses might send you in the wrong direction, but Slytherins always help other Slytherins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always motivate me to write more, so if you liked this chapter, drop a comment down below!


	4. This is Our Place, We Make the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and the gang learn about the perks of being in Slytherin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd 1/22/2021 by FalconHonour

When they reached the Common Room - you had to stand by a particular sconce, facing a particular stretch of wall and say the password, which this week was “Lacewing Fly”, to get in - the older Slytherins were waiting for them. And not just them. Snape was looming by the fireplace too.

“The Slytherin House rules,” he drawled dramatically, before the First Years could take more than a step into the room, “Are few and far between, so I would expect even the most idiotic of you to be able to remember them.” The new arrivals stared at him in alarm, and he held their gaze for a moment, before his hard exterior cracked into a wry smile. The first years all relaxed instantly, much to the rest of the house’s amusement. “First, the most  _ important  _ rule is that Slytherins are  _ united _ , within and without these walls. I don’t  _ care  _ if they pissed you off by throwing childish insults or if they pushed you over when you were five. That ends now. It’s us Slytherins against the world and as such we cannot afford to have infighting. You will fight  _ together. _ You will  _ stand up for each other _ . You are all Slytherins. The second that the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, you became, first and foremost, a Slytherin. Moreover, that will not end when you leave Hogwarts, but rather will last until the day you die.  _ Slytherins help Slytherins. _ Do you hear me?” The first years nodded their heads frantically.

“Good. Rule Number Two,  _ don’t get caught. _ I will rescue you if you get yourself stuck in a situation that you caused yourself, but you will be scrubbing my cauldrons, chopping flobberworms, grading Gryffindor Potions papers, or doing something equally as awful, for two weeks straight to make it up to me. I do not want to have to bail you out, and you do not want to wade through Percy Weasley’s essay on the use of Poppy Head that rambles on for 3 feet of parchment longer than I assigned. So, for all our sakes, whatever mischief you may take it into your heads to do, do not get caught. 

“Third, if you are going to do something intrinsically dangerous or stupid, such as use an artefact that you’ve picked up from Merlin knows where, or brew a dangerous and/or illegal potion, or try to form a covenant, or  _ whatever, please,  _ for the love of Salazar, come to me first. I would like to save you from your stupid ideas, as far as I can, but there is only so much I can do on the fly. 

“Rule number four. I expect you all to be competent. This means studying _ ahead _ in all of your classes, understand? If you do not get a spell within the first seven tries in class, you will be tutored in that spell. If your grades fall below an Acceptable in any of your classes, you will be tutored in those classes. There is parchment in each of the dorms listing which upper level students can provide tutoring for each specific subject and at what time they have agreed to offer their help. First years will be paired with fifth years, second years with sixth and third with seventh. Fourth years, help each other out as best you can. If none of you understand something, come to me and I will arrange a House refresher on whatever you are struggling with. The tutoring system is mandatory if you are below an A average, but even if your grades are higher than that, you may join in on any sessions you wish. And I should warn you, I will be taking note of who joins in voluntarily and who does not. Our average grade  _ as a House  _ is an Exceeds Expectations. This is significantly higher than that of any of the other Houses, and I do like to gloat about it to the other Heads of Houses. Do not ruin that for me.”

Snape paused, glancing round at their rapt faces and drew in a breath, his lips quirking upwards for the briefest of instants, “Those are all the  _ official  _ rules. Unofficial rules and tips will be held in a dorm of your year by your year’s corresponding Prefects, and if you are Fourth Year and above, they will be with me.” Snape cracked a grin, “And if you tell any of the other houses about my differing personalities between class and as your Head of House, I will deny it vehemently and then I will drop you into the Black Lake to play with the Giant Squid when he is hungry.” Everyone in the common room cracked up, though Tracey looked a bit nervous.

“Don’t worry,” Daphne whispered, “He’s just joking. But seriously, keep Our Snape a secret and leave Everyone Else’s Snape in the classroom.” Tracey looked relieved and laughed softly as Snape waved them away.   
Once again, Carrine and Thomas corralled the first years, but this time they took them into a dorm on the Eastern side of the Slytherin Common Room, each sitting down on one of the four-poster beds. 

“Ok,” Carrine clapped her hands together, “Unofficial rules. Thomas, you want to start?”

“Sure,” Thomas grinned, “Let’s start out with this. How many of you believe in Lady Magic?” He looked around to see that all the first years had their hands raised, “Ok, that’s good. I didn’t really want to give a crash course in ‘What is Magic’ tonight and explain to you guys that blood rituals aren’t dark and it’s all about intent and there is no such thing as Dark Magic, just dark intentions and blah blah blah. Next item of the agenda, some of you are in betrothal contracts. Don’t break them. Lady Magic has a reason, and if She didn’t think the betrothal contract had a reason, She wouldn’t’ve allowed it to be sealed. You don’t want to piss Lady Magic off just because of some fleeting crush on a Ravenclaw, when She decided that your betrothed was who was best for you. Andromeda Black Tonks is the only Slytherin I know of that has broken a betrothal contract and not been horribly unlucky for the rest of their lives.. If, however, you are  _ not _ in a betrothal contract and you  _ do  _ have a crush on anyone, feel free to come to one of us, and we can try and help you out there.”

“For example,” Carrine interrupted, laying a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, “Thomas here had a thing for me in second year, and I didn’t even realise until  _ our  _ Prefects played Cupid.”

“How’d that work out?” Vincent asked.

“Pretty damn well, I’d like to say,” Thomas grinned, slipping his arm around Carrine’s waist and kissing her on the cheek. “Our parents finalised our contract a few weeks ago. It’s all signed and sealed and everything.” 

“Also, come to us if you need to learn contraceptive spells. I’d really rather not teach them to you until third year, and Merlin knows I don’t want you to  _ use  _ them until  _ at least  _ Fourth,but if you’re going to do it, I’d really rather not any of you get pregnant. And if any of you girls start your periods this year, come to me for more direct help on that. There are various spells and potions for comfort, pain, or if you just want a supply of chocolate from Honeydukes. I’ll hook you up,” winked Carrine.

“Now we have a couple of little gifts for you that every Slytherin gets when they get sorted here.”

They each conjured a pile of books. Some of the first years groaned, but Hermione’s eyes gleamed.

“None of that,” Thomas said as he started handing out the books, “ Now. These are mandatory reading, but they’re going to help you out, and half of these will be more useful than your textbooks. For example,  _ this _ ,” he held up a book on Potions, “Is a Slytherin-exclusive book written by our wonderful Head of House, and it has saved my butt in Potions  _ so _ many times. When I started school, I was the worst brewer I knew, and I ended my first year with an Exceeds Expectations. It not only goes into each potion, but it details each step and each ingredient-why they work, why they don’t, what you can substitute in if you out of, say, fairy wings. And if you’re a Potion prodigy like Carrine, you can mess around with the potions to try and improve their efficiency and get creative if you want, although good luck with that. Professor Snape’s personal recipes are in here.”

“One of my favourite Slytherin secrets,” Carrine added, “Or at least something every Slytherin knows about, is the Room of Requirement. It’s on the seventh floor by the tapestry with the trolls doing ballet. You walk in front of it three times and think about what you want the room to be like and you’ll get a door to that room. Each year gets the room for one specific day of the week, and you can go in during the other days as long as you’ve been invited. The First Years get the room on Fridays, second years on Tuesdays, third on Wednesdays, fourth on Thursdays, Mondays for the fifth, Sundays for Sixth Years and Saturday for Seventh” Carrine said.

“That’s… a weird order,”Theo said slowly, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, it changes around year on year, although First Years are always a Friday. It’s based on schedules and whichever day each year has the most free or elective periods that day of the week. Like you firsties-lucky bastards, I say-never have a class on Fridays. Well at least not Slytherin firsties, I don’t know about the other houses,” shrugged Thomas.

“Speaking of schedules,” said Carrine, “Slytherin schedules for the first two years are charmed to have a map of the castle on the back. It’s kind of interactive.If you tap the day of the week at breakfast, it’ll know what class you have next and can direct you from one room to the other. Just watch out for the moving staircases and trick steps and doors. It can’t always work those out. Something about the two magics not being fully compatible.”

“Right,” Thomas stretched, “Before we go and let you find your rooms, do you guys have any questions?”

Millie looked up nervously, “Yeah, I didn’t really get much to eat tonight at dinner, ‘cause I’m a vegetarian?”

“Oh, so am I!” Carrine’s face broke out into a grin, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell the House Elves to put some vegetarian options by where the first years sit.”

“Hannah Abbott is too,” Pansy said. “She’s in Hufflepuff. She looked miserable at dinner tonight because she really didn’t have much to eat. Can you have the House Elves put some vegetarian options by her at the Hufflepuff table too? She hates potatoes though.”

“Sure,” Carrine smiled, “Are you going to try to make her an Honorary Slytherin?” 

“What’s that?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, it’s when someone from a different house is really good friends with people in Slytherin. If you want them to be allowed into the Slytherin Common Room, there has to be a unanimous vote within your Slytherin year mates. After a year of their being allowed in the Common Room, you can petition for them to become an Honorary Slytherin. That’s a whole House vote and at least two thirds of the House has to vote to let them in. If you’re an Honorary Slytherin you get all of the fun benefits that come with being a Slytherin - like the books and help with getting your crush to like you back, but you also have to keep up with the responsibilities of being a Slytherin like maintaining good grades and going to tutoring, although we’re a little more lax about how often they come, given they may have a different timetable to the rest of us.”

“What if they’re your sibling?” Daphne asked.

“Oh, if they’re a sibling, they’re able to bypass the year waiting period and go straight to the House vote. Terrence Higgs-he's the Head Boy and the Seeker and Captain on our Quidditch Team-has a little sister in Ravenclaw named Chloe. She became an honorary Slytherin a month into her time at Hogwarts.”

“Has a Gryffindor ever become an Honorary Slytherin?” asked Theo.

“One. Lily Evans Potter,” said Thomas, “She was best friends with Professor Snape when they were in Hogwarts, practically siblings. She got voted in, although it was by the skin of her teeth.Some people were berks about her being a Muggleborn. Once she was in, though, they accepted her. They had to, because of the Slytherin rules. The Gryffindors gave her a lot of flack for hanging out with Professor Snape and the Slytherins, so they staged this big public fight at the end of their fifth year, so they could hang out in private in sixth and seventh year without anyone giving them a hard time about it. Actually, that reminds me, she wrote your Slytherin charms book.”

“Ha!” said Hermione, “I told you she would’ve made an incredible Slytherin, Daphne!”

“You read the new book from Flourish and Blotts on her too?” Carrine perked up.

“Oh Salazar help us, there’s two of them,” groaned Thomas, “Well enjoyable as this conversation will be, First Years have to be in bed by 9:30 on schoolnights, and it’s already 8:45 and they haven’t unpacked yet.. So, anyways, the House Elves will help you with unpacking. This is a guys’ dorm, as is the one next to this room. The next room has three beds. The girls’ dorms are arranged the same way, just across from this dorm and the other boy’s dorms. Your trunks will appear in your rooms once you claim a bed. You do that by tapping it with your wand.”

Daphne tugged on Hermione’s arm, who reluctantly turned away from her rapid fire discussion of the Lily Evans Potter biography with Carrine. “Come on, let’s go claim our beds and unpack.” They headed towards the three-bed dorm, where Pansy, who had shot out of the room as soon as Thomas had mentioned where the girls’ dorms were, had already claimed the bed closest to the door. One of the walls was completely glass and Hermione could see the Black Lake, and what looked to be Merpeople swimming idly through the water. 

“Dibs on the bed by the window!” Daphne said before Hermione could speak. Running over to the bed, she tapped it with her wand. Her trunk appeared on the bed, and Daphne opened it, starting to unpack.

Hermione grinned before claiming the middle bed. Her trunk appeared on her bed. A moment later, she heard the telltale crack of the arrival of a House Elf, and spun around.

“I’s be Polly,” the House Elf grinned, “Polly’s be helping yous unpack and decorate. Polly’s even be bringing glowy string lights for Little Misses. Polly’s be Little Misses’ House Elf this year, she is. She’s be excited too’s, her mummy had all of Little Misses Mothers! They be rooming together, just like Little Misses be!”

“Thanks Polly!” Hermione grinned, “You’re going to be a real help. Between the three of us, I hope the closets are big enough. And I really hope there’s more than one, I think that would get confusing.”

Polly snapped her fingers and three doors appeared, “Little Misses be each having their own closets now!”

Daphne’s eyes were wide, “How did you do that?”

“Polly be specially close with Hogwarts,” she whispered, “Sees, Polly be’s making sure Dumbledore not be’s finding out that Elves celebrate Samhain and Beltane. We’s be believing in Lady Magic, so we’s be celebrating her. Hogwarts be linked with Her, so Hogwarts rewards Polly’s work for Lady Magic.”

A House Elf blessed by Lady Magic  _ and _ Hogwarts. That certainly wasn’t something you saw everyday. 

“Well, Polly,” Pansy cleared her throat, “We are certainly very glad to have you as our Hogwarts House Elf. Do you want to help us put up our decorations we brought from home?”

Polly’s eyes widened, “Little Misses want Polly to decorate their room?”

“Yeah, if you’d like to,” Daphne said.

“If Polly be liking to?” Polly’s eyes started watering, “Polly be loving to decorate Little Misses room! Polly’s be saving little trinkets for special Little Misses to come along one day! Polly’s be right back!” She popped out of the room, and the girls all looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“I love her!” Hermione giggled, “I didn’t even know we got House Elves, Mum never said a word!”

“I wonder if she can get a shelf for your books, Mia, instead of the chest at the end of the bed,” Daphne thought aloud. 

“I’m just glad I have a closet! I mean, can you imagine  _ keeping  _ our robes in trunks? Mrs. Malfoy would skin Dumbledore alive, I think!” Pansy snorted.

“I cannot believe you are forcing these children to walk around like vagabond ragamuffins,” Hermione did her best Narcissa impression, “Wrinkles in any Witch’s or Wizard’s clothing is shameful! They should not have to use an ironing charm on the daily! Why, I am going to start an organization for this!”

“Merlin above, she  _ would! _ ” Daphne laughed.

Hermione had just opened her trunk and started grabbing hangers from the closet when Polly popped back into the room, her arms full of knick knacks and strings of light and throw blankets and pillows and Merlin knew what else. 

“Miss Miney needs not be doing that!” Polly chided, before snapping her fingers. Hermione looked down to find her trunk empty of clothing, which had been moved to the closet, “Polly’s be unpacking Little Misses trunkses for them. Little Misses can start getting ready for sleep. They’s first day of classes bes tomorrow, oh yes. Polly knows her Little Misses are smart like Little Misses’ Mummies.”

Hermione grinned as she, Daphne and Pansy were corralled into the bathroom. As Hermione started braiding her hair, Pansy looked at the twins. “I hope Hannah’s doing ok.”

“She’ll be alright,” said Daphne, “We can check on her during breakfast tomorrow to make sure she’s okay, if you want, but if there’s someone who can get through anything, it’s Hannah. And it’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything remotely unexpected, she was just sorted into Hufflepuff. We all knew she would be. And you heard Carrine. We can get her into the Common Room in no time. Theo, Draco, Vince and Greg aren’t going to say no. Tracy and Millie are both from Ministry families. They’ll know better than to refuse us anything. I don’t know about Blaise, but I’m sure we can talk him round.”

Pansy grinned, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Hermione yawned and that started a yawn chain that rolled through the three girls until they were all laughing and yawning and then laughing some more. 

“Merlin, I’m tired,” Daphne laughed.

“Me too,” Hermione said, “Didn’t even realize how tired I was until I was yawning. Let’s go see what Polly did to our room and then I know I’m going to flop into bed,” She left the bathroom and walked into the dorm room to find it completely decked out-it looked like a studio apartment, with small couches and throw blankets and string lights hanging from the walls. There was even a large bookshelf holding Hermione’s small library. 

“Polly, this is amazing!” Daphne gushed.

“Well,” Polly looked shyly at the ground, “Polly’s be waiting and preparing for her special little Misses to come along for years.” She looked up, back to business, “Now Little Misses needs to be getting to sleep. Polly’s be waking them up in the mornings at seven so theys can be ready for breakfast at eight and theys first classes at nine.”

Each of the girls climbed into their beds and Polly tucked them into the covers before turning the lights out. “Good night Little Misses,” she whispered, a smile on her face, “Sleep tight and yous be dreaming good dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be updating as frequently as I have been-I might try and go for a weekly upload kind of thing to create some consistency? I don't really know, but I'll keep you all posted on that. I've included my tumblr down below if you want to ask me any questions about Snakes and Sunflowers and you don't want to comment or for whatever reason you may have. I also post fanfictions that I read and really like there, so you can check it out for some fic recommendations as well if you want :)
> 
> https://allysficpics.tumblr.com/


	5. Morning of Your Very First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of classes, including Potions, History of Magic, and Transfiguration, as well as some interesting developments! We also get our first non Hermione POV :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter for y'all! Edited 2/5/2021, by my incredible beta FalconHonour

Hermione woke up to Polly crying out “Wake up, Little Misses! It bes the first day of classes!” Hermione sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. She looked over to see Daphne already sitting up in her bed, halfway through a magazine. Pansy, on the other hand, was burrowing further under her sheets. Narrowing her eyes, Polly popped out of the room. A moment later, she returned with a wet rag clutched in one hand. The Elf pulled back Pansy’s sheets (despite her desperate attempts to keep them where they were) and dropped the wet rag on Pansy’s face.

Pansy let out an unladylike yelp and practically leapt out of bed..

“That was _cold,_ Polly!” 

“Little Miss needed to get up,” said Polly, unperturbed.

After a flurry of activity, the three girls entered the common room looking picture perfect at 7:45. Draco and Theo, who were chatting on a couch with Blaise Zabini, looked up as they entered. 

“About bloody time,” Draco moaned, “Salazar, I’m hungry!”

“How are you _hungry_?” gaped Hermione, “I’m still stuffed from last night!”

“I’m a growing boy!” Draco protested.

“Spare us the dramatics. Are you going to introduce us to Zabini?” asked Pansy, rolling her eyes.

“Oh,” Draco cleared his throat, “Ladies, this is Blaise Zabini, Heir of House Zabini of Italy.”

Blaise Zabini laughed, “Ugh, you sound so _formal._ You don’t need to bother with any of that, y’know? Just call me Blaise.”

“Nice to meet you, Blaise,” said Hermione, “I’m Hermione Greengrass, this is my sister Daphne, and this is Pansy Parkinson.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Blaise, winking.

Unable to help herself, Hermione peppered Blaise with questions as they strolled to the Great Hall.

“So, Draco said House Zabini is from Italy? Were you born and raised there? ‘Cos I’ve never seen you around before. I mean, you weren’t at any of the galas or Ministry Events or anything.”

Blaise laughed, “Yeah, I’ve lived in Italy my whole life, but I certainly would have moved to the United Kingdom sooner if I’d known there were beautiful girls like you here,” he winked.

Hermione blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Draco, who was a strange shade of pink, fell back so that he was walking at Hermione’s other side.

“Wonder what our schedules are going to be like,” he said, his voice determinedly casual. 

Normally, Hermione would have looked at him askance for that, but not today. Instead, she perked up at the mention of schedules and started chatting away about what class she wanted to have with which House, and which classes she hoped were on certain days. By the time they arrived in the Great Hall, she’d described her ideal schedule in great detail.  
Blaise’s glares at the Malfoy heir went unnoticed as Draco watched Hermione fondly.

As they sat down, Hermione glanced at the Hufflepuff table to see that Hannah hadn’t yet shown up for breakfast. Hermione did, however, note that there were a plethora of vegetarian breakfast options where Hannah had sat last night. Smiling to herself, Hermione sat between Daphne and Pansy. Pansy was drinking a mug filled to the brim with black coffee, while Daphne was chatting with Theo as he was working on the crossword in the Daily Prophet, the Sudoku already completed. 

“How’d you already get the Prophet? The owls haven’t even delivered them yet!” Draco asked, as he sat next to Theo and across from Hermione. Blaise took the seat across from Pansy, as Theo looked up.

“I didn’t-it’s yesterday's Prophet, I didn’t get a chance to finish out the Crossword,” he glanced back down at his paper, “What’s a nine letter word for a plant that helps you breathe underwater?”

“Gillyweed,” said Hermione, nonchalantly.

Everyone looked at her, surprised, before Pansy said, “That’s OWL material. I know you like to read ahead, Mia, but you don’t even like Herbology. How’d you know that?”

Hermione stared back blankly as she realised that she _didn’t_ know how she knew that. “I… I don’t know,” she mumbled.

Daphne, however, came to her rescue. “I’m sure you read it somewhere and forgot where you read it. I mean, Merlin, there’s no way you can remember where you learned _everything_ on top of what you learned! That would be so completely unfair. I mean, as it is, you’re absolutely brilliant enough.”

Everyone laughed, and Hermione forgot her worries. Draco started recalling the story of the one time that he met Molly Weasley. The - no doubt embellished - tale started with her bumping into him in a shop in Diagon Alley a couple of years ago and ended with Draco swearing that she yelled at him so much that he got permanent hearing damage. About halfway through breakfast, when the hall was full of people, the owls started flying in.

Persephone settled on Daphne’s shoulder, a letter in her beak and a parcel tied onto her leg. Hermione untied the parcel while Daphne opened the letter. 

_Dear Hermione and Daphne,_

_We are so proud to hear that you two were sorted into Slytherin. I don’t think it was much of a surprise, though, not even for the elves. Mippie looked at us and told us that of course you were sorted there, you are Greengrasses. There’s more film in the parcel, if you haven’t opened it already. Pippie wanted to send sweets, but Skippie argued that you should have enough left over from the train ride to last you throughout the day. Although she did say that you would definitely need some more tomorrow morning. We just wanted to send this to you to let you know how proud we are of you both._

_Love_

_Mum and Dad_

_P.S. Give Hannah, Pansy, Draco, and Theo our love_

_Dear Mia and Daphne,_

_This is Astoria writing, obviously, you could probably tell by the handwriting. Mummy and Daddy said you got into Slytherin, so that’s really cool. Was the Sorting Hat really gross and old? I don’t want to put on a musty old hat that’s a thousand years old just because it’s tradition. What would happen if someone with lice put it on? No thank you. Anyways, you had better be taking pictures already so you can make copies and send them to me, ‘cause I want to be there with you guys but I can’t ‘cause I’m not eleven yet. Which sucks. I think nine and a half year olds can learn magic just as good as eleven year olds. Anyways, you need to send me back a letter with every single thing that happened, I’m not even kidding. If you leave out a single detail, I’ll tell Mum about the time that I caught you two sneaking out onto the roof that one night to watch the stars, so you better include everything._

_Stori_

Hermione and Daphne exchanged amused glances throughout Astoria’s letter. “We should probably write back to her tonight,” said Daphne, as she fed Persephone a bit of bacon off of Theo’s plate.

Hermione nodded absentmindedly as she flipped through the Daily Prophet, scanning it for anything of worth. A moment later, she put it down, shrugging, “Hey Drake, what’s your letter say?”

Draco looked up from his breakfast, and shrugged noncommittally. “Same as what your parents said, I imagine. Mother and Father send their love to you.”

“Aw, well tell them we say hi and send our love as well,” grinned Hermione, “Our parents send their love to you as well. Same to you, Pans and Theo. By the way, there’s nothing worth reading in the Daily Prophet today, so you guys don’t have to bother scanning it.”

“Speak for yourself,” chuckled Theo, who was already working on the new Sudoku, the old Prophet finished and set to the side. At that moment, Carrine walked over to where the group of First Years were sitting and handed each of the girls a timetable. 

“Thomas will be down to give you boys your timetables in a moment, but they’re the same as any other first year Slytherin’s,” She gave them all a warm grin.

Hermione looked down at her timetable eagerly, as the boys rushed round the table to peer over the girls’ shoulders. Theo was looking over Daphne’s shoulder and Blaise and Draco were on either side of Hermione.

“Hey, Blaise, you can look over Pansy’s shoulder for the schedule, you know,” said Draco.

“Like hell he can!” snorted Pansy, “Nobody is hovering over me to look at the schedule, thank you very much. You two can look at Hermione’s.”

“We have Double Potions with Professor Snape and the Gryffindors first thing,” groaned Draco.

“You _like_ Potions and Professor Snape is your godfather,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but _Gryffindors_. And a Weasley. And Potter. No thanks.”

“Well after that, we’ve got History of Magic with Ravenclaw. Professor Binns-isn’t he a ghost?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” said Theo, “Apparently he’s really boring.”

“That sucks,” Daphne pouted, “History of Magic is a fascinating topic if you’ve got a good teacher.”

Pansy snorted, “You sound like Hermione.”

“Well History of Magic and Charms are my favourites so I’m allowed to be swotty about them.”

“Hey!”

“We’ve got a free period after that,” Blaise noted, “Then Transfiguration with McGonagall and then Charms with Flitwick-both with Hufflepuff. Isn’t that the house your friend Hannah’s in?”

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded, “And after that we’ve got Ravenclaw again, this time for Astronomy with Professor Sinistra.”

“That’s a pretty full day, I think,” Daphne said.

“What classes do we not have?” asked Pansy.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor and that Quirrell fellow, and Herbology with Professor Sprout and Ravenclaw.”

“I wish we had it with Hufflepuff or Gryffindor,” Hermione sighed, “I mean, everyone knows Neville Longbottom is a whiz at plants and as for Hufflepuff, it’s got Hannah in it.”

“Speaking of, let’s go say hello to Hannah before breakfast is over,” Theo said.

When they got to the Hufflepuff table, Hannah looked up at them and grinned. Susan Bones, who was sitting next to her, also looked up and gave a small smile. “Hey guys!” Hannah exclaimed “Did you see your schedules yet? Hufflepuff and Slytherin have Charms and Transfiguration together!”

Pansy smirked at Hannah’s exuberant attitude, “‘Course we did. We’ve got Potions with the Gryffindors, and Astronomy and History of Magic with the ‘Claws. Daphne’s pissed because History of Magic’s taught by some boring old ghost, but honestly I’m looking forward to having a period where I can do my work for all my other classes.”

“Pansy!” Hannah and Hermione shouted at the same time.

“Oh!” exclaimed Hannah, “There were some vegetarian options for breakfast this morning, thank Merlin! Last night was a wreck in terms of what I could eat.”

“We talked to our Prefect about it,” said Daphne, “She’s a vegetarian too, so she just told the House Elves to give you some things you could eat.”

“You looked pretty miserable last night,” said Theo.

“I was!” Hannah cried,“There wasn’t a single dish I could eat!”

“Except for the potatoes,” Draco smirked.

“You know I hate potatoes,” Hannah stuck her tongue out at him, “Anyway, Susan and I should probably get going. I don’t want to be late to DADA and I have no idea where it is,” she laughed as she got up to leave. 

“I think I’m going to say hi to Neville Longbottom and that Lavender Brown girl in Gryffindor,” said Hermione.

“Why?” Pansy asked, perplexed.

“Well I want to cultivate a friendly acquaintance with the both of them at the very least, so I need to establish to them that I’m approachable. Establishing connections, you know.”

“Whatever,” Pansy rolled her eyes “I’m getting my third cup of coffee, thank you very much.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Draco. 

“Thanks, Drake.”

“Can I tag along too?” asked Blaise.

“Sure,” said Hermione, at the same time Draco said “Absolutely not.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “It’s no big deal, Draco, come on.” She made her way over to the Gryffindor table and slid into the seat across from Neville. “Hey, Neville,” she smiled. 

“Hi, Hermione,” said Neville, albeit a bit nervously.

“Merlin Neville, it’s just me, no need to be nervous!” giggled Hermione, “I know I’m a Slytherin and you’re a Gryffindor and all that but I’m still the same person you’ve known for ages. Oh! How’s the Umbrella Flower that you were working on growing?”

Neville visibly relaxed, “Oh, it’s growing really well! My gran is taking care of it while I’m at Hogwarts, she’s really good with plants, you know.”

“So how’s Gryffindor life treating you?” Draco asked.

“Good so far, I guess,” said Neville, “You know, I thought I was going to be a Hufflepuff for sure. I mean, I was all right with that, but… I wanted to be in Gryffindor like my Mum and Dad.” Neville spoke the last part quietly, his eyes on the ground. Alice and Frank Longbottom were long-term patients inSaint Mungo’s due to being tortured to insanity by Bellatrix Black Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus Lestrange Barty Crouch Jr. and Rabastan Lestrange.

Draco cringed at the reminder of what his aunt and uncle had done, “I’m really sorry that they weren’t able to-”

Neville waved him off, “It's not your fault.”

“But still…”

“Draco, I don’t blame you. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Hermione spotted Lavender Brown sitting a few seats down, next to one of the Patil twins. Leaving the boys to argue over whether or not Draco should feel guilty over what happened to Neville’s parents, she slid over and extended her hand for Lavender and the Patil girl to shake. “Hi, I’m Hermione Greengrass. You’re Lavender Brown, right? And you’re... Parvati Patil?” Hermione hoped desperately she had the right twin, and was relieved when both of them gave her a small smile and shook her hand.

“Yeah. How do you know who I am?” Lavender asked.

“Well, I’ve seen you a couple of times at Ministry events-doesn’t your Dad work in the Department of Magical Transportation?” 

“Yeah,” Lavender flushed, “I don’t go to those events a lot though, they’re dreadfully boring.” She looked up quickly at Hermione, worried she had offended her.

Hermione laughed, “Circe, tell me about it! Honestly, you’re lucky your parents let you get out of going. My parents don’t even work for the Ministry and I can’t miss a single one.”

Lavender slowly started to smile, “You know, one time, I got so bored I counted the floor tiles in ladies’ loo by the Ballroom.”

“How many tiles were there?” asked Parvati.

“Four hundred and sixteen,” Lavender said solemnly, “Unfortunately that only took up half of the time during one of the stupid events, so I sat in the corner for the rest of the night drinking punch.”

“You know, next time, you should talk to me and some of my friends during the Ministry events.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” Hermione shrugged, “You seem pretty cool.”

“I’m not in Slytherin though,” she said.

“Well, I’m talking to you at the Gryffindor table, aren’t I? I think I could guess that for myself,” Hermione laughed, “And anyways so is Neville, and we talk to him at events all the time.”

“I’m a Half-blood though.”

“None of us really care about that,” said Hermione, gently.

“But all of your friends are Pureblood. Sacred 28 and all that!”

“Well,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “Hannah Abbott’s a Half-blood too, but I guess the rest of them are Purebloods. But that’s probably because we all grew up together, as did our parents, and their parents, and on and on. It’s kind of a cycle, but we aren’t, like, _exclusive_ or anything. You too, Patil. Come find us if you ever unfortunately find yourself at a Ministry event and want to not have to listen to adults prattling on about nothing anyone cares about.”

Parvati Patil smiled, “You can call me Parvati or Pav if you want. My family just moved from India as Magical Ambassadors to the British Ministry of Magic, so I guess I’m going to have to go to those events. Are they really as awful as you’re implying?”

“Yes,” deadpanned Lavender and Hermione at the same time. They turned to each other and laughed. 

“You can call me Lavender, by the way,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“And you guys can call me Hermione,” Hermione beamed. 

At that moment, Ronald Weasley looked over from his breakfast to see three Slytherins at the Gryffindor table.

“What the hell are you slimy snakes doing here?” he said, mouth full of food.

Hermione cringed back visibly at the display of foul manners, but then remembered what Hannah had said about giving the Weasleys a chance. “Oh, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here. Hi, you’re Ronald Weasley, right? I’m Hermione Greengrass. Pleasure to meet you.”

The boy snorted, “I don’t care who you are. You’re a Slytherin. You shouldn’t be here!”

“There’s no rule against it,” Hermione shrugged.

Ron Weasley’s face went red, and he started stalking over to where Hermione was. In a flash, Draco and Blaise were by her side. Ron went even redder, and Hermione thought he was pretty close to having steam come out of his ears. The image caught her off guard and she had to quickly cover her mount and disguise her laugh as a cough. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s so funny?” Ron snapped

Draco’s eyes narrowed and his voice became distinctly cold, “The fact that your face is about the same color of your hair,” he drawled. Harry Potter, who finally seemed to be paying attention, stood up abruptly.

“Go away, Malfoy.”

“I actually think I quite like it here, Potter.”.

“Evil gits like you can’t be at the Gryffindor table!” Ron Weasley exploded.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “And what makes us evil? I was having a lovely conversation with Lavender and Parvati over here before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Well,” the red-headed boy said, “You’re in Slytherin. Honestly, for all the money the Greengrasses and Malfoys have, they can’t buy their way into Gryffindor house. You have to be a good person.”

Blaise spoke up for the first time, “I wouldn’t talk about money if I were you, Weasley.”

The boy went bright red again, “And who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Blaise smirked.

“We ought to get going,” Draco sniffed, “I don’t want the blood-traitor rubbing off on me.”

Ron and Harry both drew their wands. Hermione just threw her head back and laughed. 

“Ooh! I’m terrified! I’m willing to bet galleons that neither of you know any spells. Bet your parents didn’t even teach you rudimentary defense, Weasley. Do you even know what rudimentary means? Either of you?” When they looked at her blankly, she shook her head, “Salazar, you two are stupid. Pulling a wand on three Heirs to Noble and Ancient Houses? I bet you that Uncle Lucius and Daddy could sue you both for all your money’s worth _and_ then put you in Azkaban for that. But we need to get going for Potions with Professor Snape. Parvati, Lavender, do you want to walk with us?”

The two girls looked up at Hermione uncertainty and tentatively nodded. When they got up, Hermione turned on her heel and walked straight out of the Great Hall. When she was halfway to the dungeons, her pace finally slowed, and the two Gryffindor girls as well as Draco and Blaise were able to catch up to her. 

“Sorry for being such a bitch back there,” When the girls blanched at her curse, she flushed and bit her lip. “And for the cursing. I’m a bit het up right now.”

“Why do you guys dislike Weasley and Potter so much?” Parvati asked, nervously.

“You don’t know?” Lavender asked, as Draco sighed, “It’s a long story.” They looked at each other. 

“Well,” said Lavender slowly, “I can’t speak about why they don’t like Harry Potter, but as for Ron Weasley, well, it’s kind of a family thing. Part of it’s a blood feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys and the other parts… well, a long story, like Malfoy said.”

“Can you summarise it?” asked Parvati.

“Um…” said Lavender, “Maybe tonight in the dorm. It’s got a lot of stuff connected to it and there’s some stigma around it all, but-”

“I promise I won’t judge,” said Parvati.

Lavender nodded cautiously, “Ok, I’ll explain it tonight then.”

“As for Potter,” Draco said, “we think the credit should go to Lily Potter, not some one year old who didn’t really do anything.”

Hermione turned to Blaise, “I didn’t know you even knew about the Weasleys. That was an impressive insult to come up with on the spur of the moment, considering.”

“Well, part of insulting Weasley was based on context clues. Like his robes, I mean, they look like hand-me-downs. Which, there’s nothing wrong with, really, but it would be something he would care about if he was bringing up how much money the Malfoys and Greengrasses had.”

“That’s really clever,” Hermione giggled.

“It’s a talent,” laughed Blaise. 

“You should sit next to me in Potions, Mia,” Draco cut in, “I mean since we’re the best at potions out of our group.”

“Sure!” said Hermione, “But we should probably scarper if we want to make sure we can grab two seats together towards the front of the class.”

* * *

Potions started with Professor Snape taking roll. When he got to Harry Potter’s name, he paused. Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.” Draco sniggered, and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, mouthing for him to _‘Shut up’_. 

According to Emmeline, Professor Snape started every year with some epic speech, and Hermione wasn’t disappointed. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,”he began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” He paused for what Hermione imagined was dramatic effect. “Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry looked rather stumped and said, “I don’t know sir.”

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks. The ingredients to Draught of the Living Death were in the first chapter of the textbook. More to the point, they were something any wizard or witch worth their salt should know.

Snape sneered, “Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything. Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

The boy looked equally as confused and Hermione rolled her eyes. It was _obviously_ found in a goat’s stomach. She looked over to see Draco silently shaking with laughter, as was Pansy, who was sitting two seats across from them.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Hermione and Draco turned to each other and mouthed, “ _Same thing_.” 

“I don’t know,” Potter said, “I’m sure you could find someone who does know instead of asking me obscure questions.”

“5 points from Gryffindor for cheek,” Snape said smoothly, “Five points to whomever can tell me the answers to each of these so called obscure questions, and an extra two if you can name the first year textbook that each of these questions are answered in the first chapter?”

Hermione lazily raised her hand. When she was acknowledged with a nod, she began, “Well first, powdered asphodel root and an infusion of wormwood will create the Draught of the Living Death. That’s in the introduction to Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, page four if I remember correctly. A bezoar is found in a goat’s stomach, that’s one of the first fifty terms in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, and monkshood and wolfsbane are commonly referred to as the same thing, although wolfsbane is a more broader definition of monkshood-which is a variety of blue or white hood shaped flowers of the genus _aconitum,_ whereas wolfsbane is any number of perennial herbs of the genus _aconitum._ That’s found in both Magical Drafts and Potions and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.” 

“Seven points to Slytherin for an excellent answer and an extra three for preparedness. What are you waiting for?” snapped Snape, “Write that down!”

Hermione heard Weasley utter “Swot.”

Hermione turned to him and said “I suppose that you’re so idiotic that a troll would be a swot compared to you.”

“Three points from Gryffindor, Weasley for insulting Miss Greengrass,” Snape seemingly slid out of nowhere, “And Miss Greengrass, that was an excellent description of Monkshood and Wolfsbane. Have you had to answer that question before?”

“No sir,” said Hermione, “Neville Longbottom and I had a debate at the July 14th Ministry Gala over whether wolfsbane and monkshood should be used synonymously or not.”

“Interesting,” said the professor, before turning to the boy, who was sitting at a table on the other side of Hermione’s, “Longbottom!”

The boy trembled, “Yes sir?”

“Tell me, have you had any experience in brewing potions before?”

“Yes sir, b-but I’m not any good at it,” Neville looked like he wanted to hide somewhere.

“Well, it seems you are well versed in Herbology, which goes hand in hand with potions. After I am able to assess your skill levels during this class, you will stay behind so we can talk.”

Neville nodded shakily. Hermione felt almost bad that Neville looked so nervous, but if she were to wager a guess, Professor Snape would find a way for Neville to become an adequate potioneer, or set him up with a brilliant potioneer in their year so that Neville could take care of the ingredients and ingredient preparation-the Herbology side of potions - while his partner did the brewing. 

“Today, we will be brewing a Potion to cure boils. You will be working with whomever you are sitting next to. Everything you need to know is in your textbooks and on the board.”

Hermione and Draco stirring in the final ingredients into their potion when Hermione heard a hissing sound. She swiveled to see Seamus Finnigan and Neville’s cauldron bubbling over and starting to melt the cauldron. Fortunately, they were sitting at the table on Hermione’s side. Hermione grabbed Neville and threw up a shield as quickly as she could, less than half a second before the potion boiled over. Neville, Hermione and Draco had luckily been shielded from the explosion, but Finnigan unfortunately hadn’t. Red boils started to pop up all over his face and arms. Hermione winced in sympathy.

The poor boy, who was moaning in agony, was rounded upon by Professor Snape. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills _before_ taking the cauldron off the fire, Mr. Finnigan?” he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Luckily, you will not have to take a trip to the infirmary, as Mr. Malfoy and Miss Greengrass seem to have completed a perfect potion that should be able to cure your boils.” He rounded on Weasley and Potter who were staring slack jawed at the table behind Finnigan. “You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another three points you’ve lost for Gryffindor.” He plucked a vial from his desk and filled it with Hermione and Draco’s potion and gave it to Finnigan. Hermione watched in slight satisfaction as the boils disappeared, and Finnigan sighed in relief. 

About an hour later, Hermione caught Finnigan before he left the dungeons. “Hey, just wanted to say that I’m sorry that I couldn’t grab you too as well as Neville. I didn’t think I would be able to make it in time.”

The Irish boy shrugged, “Not your cock-up, not your fault. Besides, a trip to the infirmary on the first day would’ve been embarrassing, wouldn’t it, so I oughta be thanking you for your potion,” he shifted uncomfortably, “I know that Gryffindors and Slytherins aren’t supposed to get along, but you seem pretty alright for a snake, I think.”

Hermione smirked as the boy practically ran off. She stuck around for a couple more minutes before Neville came out of the classroom looking pale. 

“You okay?” asked Hermione.

“Snape just said he’d set up some tutoring for me with an older Slytherin so I can learn how to brew properly. Said that I’ve got the foundations to be adequate ‘cause I know a bit about Herbology.”

“That’s great, Neville!” The boy nodded shakily before walking off a bit dazed. Hermione started walking out of the dungeons, before she saw Draco, leaning against a wall. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Drake.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but I figured, why not. Let’s go see how bad Binns is.”

* * *

Daphne was sitting in History of Magic, her leg bouncing in excitement, her quill out. Sure, everyone said Binns was bad and boring, but she was not about to let other people’s opinions ruin her favourite subject. Hermione walked in a few minutes before the bell with Draco, and Daphne waved her over to sit in the seat she had saved for her. 

“Do you think we’ll learn about the Founders? Or maybe the French Goblin Rebellions? Or the war with Grindelwald and how that affected what Muggles see as World War II?” Daphne’s mind raced with possibilities. Sure, Hermione loved every subject, but History of Magic was _hers._ Hermione was good at it, of course, but it was Daphne who had a passion for it. While her sister would prance through a bookshop, reading everything and anything, Daphne would always clear out the History section. She would play this game with Hermione, where her sister would name an event and Daphne would list the dates and explain what happened. 

Some people found the entire subject a complete bore, but it fascinated Daphne. She had a list of historical sites that she wanted to visit. Father took her and Hermione to as many as he could, but her list just kept getting longer

Part of the reason her father indulged her so with her History of Magic obsession was because his late mother had a similar passion for the same subject. She had passed away when Daphne was seven, but the witch had had a profound effect on her. Daphne fondly remembered afternoons in which she and her grandmother, whom she called Grandmere, would take their family tapestry and map it out as extensively as they could-every single person who was even remotely related to the Greengrasses, whether through marriage or blood, back to the 14th century, and all the Heads and Heirs back to the 9th. She and Grandmere had put as much information on each and every person they could find. They would go into Old Tomes shops to purchase as many as they could, sometimes buying out the whole shop, just to try and find a mention of a relative somewhere in the tree. They had pages and pages and pages of documentation, enough to fill the medium-sized library on the eastern side of Greengrass Manor.

When Grandmere had gotten sick, she and Daphne would pore through all of their documentation, book by book, committing each to memory. When Grandmere had passed away, that was the first experience Daphne had had with death. Her Greengrass grandfather had died when Daphne was maybe two or three, so she didn’t really remember him. Her mother’s parents were ‘Travel Bugs’, as Selene affectionately called them. They were rarely in the same country for more than a couple of weeks at a time. They visited, but Daphne didn’t really know them very well. But Grandmere had lived with them for as long as Daphne could remember. 

When she died, Daphne hadn’t known how to deal with the grief. Grandmere was _hers._ But she was gone. Daphne spent a lot of time in the side library the following months. By the time Daphne was done grieving, she had memorised each and every book. She knew each and every detail her Grandmere had found about each family member, both with Daphne, and before Daphne was born. It had been her life’s passion. But although the information was extensive, it wasn’t complete. Not to say that it would ever be complete-there was always hidden details about ancestors you thought you had known everything you could possibly know about, and there were several family members where Daphne only knew their birth date, death date, who they married and when. But Daphne endeavored to fill in as much as she possibly could. 

When Professor Binns arrived, he floated through the wall. He took role call in a monotone voice. Daphne was nervous. Did he always talk like this? He announced that today he was going to talk about the Goblin War of 1673. Daphne brightened. This was one of her favourite Goblin Wars. In fact, she knew two of her ancestors-Eric Greengrass and Armando Higgs-who was the cousin of her tenth great grandmother- had been heavily involved in the war. 

Binns’s blackboard flipped over and a chalk started writing what he said. Daphne kept waiting for his voice to vary in pitch or for him to throw in an especially interesting fact or even the circumstances of the times. But every time the next sentence was something about the number of goblins on one side, or the casualties in one battle or however much weaponry was possessed by each side. She could feel her heart sinking with every word. By the end of class she was so upset she was on the verge of tears. Binns had _murdered_ her favourite subject right in front of her-made it boring enough she wanted to fall asleep. 

In their free period before lunch, Daphne sat in a courtyard, staring stonily at the ground. 

Theo came up beside her. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This about Binns and History?”

“Yeah. He was rubbish. Not even rubbish, he was worse. He made one of the most interesting Goblin Wars _boring._ There was a _quintuple_ Goblin spy in that war! How do you not mention a quintuple spy? Or anything remotely interesting about the war? And that’s not to mention that he completely oversimplified the reason that the Goblins waged war on Wizards in the first place.” She kicked a rock. “What do I do?”

Theo thought for a moment, “You can read History books in the class.”

“That’s not the same as being _taught_ something though. It’s not as fun.”

“Isn’t Mr. Malfoy on the Board of Governors?”

“Yeah? What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Maybe you can try and get him to try and replace Binns. And if he can’t, or at least in the meantime, maybe we could study History together?”

Daphne looked up at Theo, her eyes shining. She flung her arms around him and kissed him quickly on the cheek. They both blushed. “Thank you, Theo,” she said softly. 

* * *

In Transfiguration, Hermione sat next to Hannah. They were supposed to turn needles into matchsticks, and curiously enough the bit of Hermione in the back of her head that had told her the answer for Theo’s crossword puzzle popped up again. Almost instinctively, she jabbed her wand, murmuring an incantation, and her matchstick turned into a needle. Professor McGonagall, who had been walking by, stopped in shock. 

“Miss Greengrass, have you done this before?”

Hermione shook her head, confused. “No, Professor.”

“How did-I mean, that is to say, how-were you able to do that? My most advanced first year students don’t get this until the beginning of our class on Wednesday, and most don’t complete it until the end!”

Hermione chewed her lip. “I don’t know ma’am.”

“Can you walk me through how you did it?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Well,” said Hermione, “It just felt right, like I _knew_ what to do? It was instinctive.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows raised further. “Well, Miss Greengrass, that was a very impressive display of magic for someone your age. Ten points to Slytherin. Try to help your other classmates with transfiguring their matchsticks into needles,” she said as she walked away briskly.

Hannah, who was jabbing her wand at her matchstick was having some-albeit very little-success, “How in Merlin’s name did you just do that, Mia?” Hermione shrugged self-consciously. “No, I mean it’s absolutely brilliant! Don’t feel weird about it!”

Hermione blushed at Hannah’s praise, “I know, it’s just I don’t know how or why I, you know, just _did_ it. It’s weird.”

Hannah lowered her voice into a whisper, “Maybe it’s Lady Magic. Don’t feel weird or bad about it, Hermione. It’s something to celebrate. Promise me you won’t tear yourself up about not knowing how you know. Sometimes, it’s okay to just _know._ ”

Hermione smiled at Hannah appreciatively. “Thanks Han. I don’t mean to get the way I do about trying to understand everything. I mean, I don’t know why Lady Magic would want to help me, but if it’s what She wants, I’m not going to worry about it.”

“That’s easier said than done with you, Hermione.”

“Hey!”

“Oh come on! You know you brood far too long if you don’t have everything a hundred percent figured out. Now come on. Help me figure out how to make this stupid stick a needle.”

An hour later, in Charms, Hermione was able to get the charm that they were learning- _Aberto-_ on the first try, much to Professor Flitwick’s shock, but unlike McGonagall, he didn’t question her. Instead, he simply awarded her another ten points for Slytherin.

When she regaled the others with her feelings of confusion at dinner, everyone reassured her that there was nothing to worry about. Despite that, she still decided to visit Professor Snape.

When she explained her worries, he looked at her. “Miss Greengrass, have you ever heard the expression 'don't look the gift Hippogriff in the beak?’ I suggest you do just that. It could be from Lady Magic, it could be a long-forgotten family trait you inherited, it could be that you have a strong magical core. None of these things are anything to be concerned about.”

The fears in Hermione’s brain quieted. If Professor Snape said there was nothing to worry about, then there was nothing to worry about. And she was not going to-as he said-look a gift Hippogriff in the beak. When she told Daphne that night that she wasn’t going to look into it as it wasn’t anything bad, as Professor Snape had said, Daphne rolled her eyes.

“So when _Hannah or I_ tell you that it can be ignored, but when a Professor tells you the same exact thing, you finally listen?” she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh....do you guys have any theories on what's happening with Hermione?
> 
> Comment and leave Kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> https://allysficpics.tumblr.com/  
> ^^My tumblr-if you have any anonymous questions or questions you don't want to leave in the comments ask me there! I also have fic recommendations there as well :))


	6. Drop Everything Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/5/2021 by my incredible beta FalconHonour

The following weeks of school passed by without incident, other than a Prophet headline that claimed a break-in on Gringotts, but that was utter tripe. Everyone knew that you couldn’t break into Gringotts, and the Goblins even said that the vault had been emptied out earlier that day, “So even if there was a break-in, the contents of the vault were not there-and no, we’re not telling you what was in there!” a Goblin was quoted as saying. 

So, everything was relatively peaceful, and the first years started to fall into the rhythm of school. That wasn’t to say that it was quiet by any means. It very much wasn’t. Hermione was rapidly learning every single spell in the spellbooks for the year without trouble, which she was rather proud of. Pansy was equally as proud of how she had coerced the House Elves into brewing a more concentrated form of coffee for her, so she only had to have one cup of the purest bean coffee rather than the ‘diluted and weak’ four cups of straight black coffee she normally had. The scent of the drink alone woke Hermione up. Hannah was becoming rather popular in Hufflepuff, and was enjoying having more time to spend with her cousin Susan. Daphne had complained enough to both Uncle Lucius and Father about Professor Binns ruining her favourite subject that Hermione was somewhat confident that they would have a new History of Magic teacher by next year at the latest. Theo and Daphne had had their first kiss-a quick sweet peck on the lips that Daphne spent hours regaling in great detail to Pansy and Hermione in their dorms. Blaise was spending more time with Hermione, Theo, Daphne, Pansy and Draco and they were quickly coming to consider the quick-witted Italian a friend. Neville was getting over his nerves around Professor Snape and was now able to get through Potions without blowing anything up. And Draco? Draco was getting into verbal spars with Ronald Weasley, whom he dubbed ‘The Weasel’, and Harry Potter, who was ‘Scarhead’. 

Admittedly, most of the ‘fights’ were started by Weasley insulting one of the Slytherins, or the house in general, but it didn’t get bad until he asked Draco which of his ‘slag cousins’ he was betrothed to-Daphne or Hermione. 

Hermione whipped around. “First of all, if you ever learned  _ anything  _ at all about Pure-blood Society, History, Culture or Families, you would know that the Malfoys and the Greengrasses are not even  _ distantly  _ related. In fact, you would have to go back nine generations before we had a common ancestor, which is much further back than  _ your parents _ , who are second cousins. Or did you forget that red-hair isn’t exactly a common trait? Second, Daphne is betrothed to Theo and it’s their own damn choice and it’s for a good reason. Draco and I aren’t betrothed, but if we were, you could be Merlin-damned sure our parents would’ve had a good reason to set it up. Third, neither Daphne nor I are slags, thank you very much.”

Later that night she had wiped away furious tears, “I don’t even know why I’m crying!” she complained to Draco, “I know what he said isn’t true and he’s just a gormless berk, but it still hurts, and he said it about Daphne too! She’s never even said a word to him! And I know what he says about her doesn’t bother her, but it bothers me! She’s my younger sister, even if it is only by an hour. I ought to be able to protect her!”

A few days later, there was a notice in the Common Room, announcing that Flying Lessons started on Thursday and that they were with the Gryffindors.

Hermione didn’t think she had seen so much glee on a person’s face when Draco discovered that they had lessons with Gryffindor. 

“What are you so happy about?” Hermione asked, “You kind of hate most Gryffindors.”

“Exactly!” the blonde had exclaimed, “I’m going to get to see Weasley and Potter fall off their brooms!” He ran to Daphne, who was on the other side of the room, “Daphne, I’m begging you, please, please, please, please,  _ please _ take your camera to the lessons! I want pictures of Weasley and Potter falling off their brooms!” When Daphne rolled her eyes and nodded her head, he let out a whoop of joy and did a lap of victory around the common room, much to Hermione’s amusement. 

“Not that I’m going to be so loud about it,” chuckled Theo, “But I’m looking forward to flying lessons with the Gryffindors too.”

“I mean I get that it’s a house rivalry thing and all”, Blaise started, wrinkling his nose, “But I still don’t completely get it. Why do you guys hate Gryffindors so much?”

The common room went quiet in shock. Draco was the first to begin, “Longbottom’s not so bad, he’s an exception I suppose, more of a Puff than a Gryffindor, but I don’t know how Mia can stand Patil and Brown.”

“It’s just that they’re all so...brash,” said a third year.

“And annoying,” added another.

“Plus they hate us for no good reason.”

“Well, don’t they think we hate Muggleborns?” said Hermione, playing devil’s advocate, as always.

“Most of us don’t. Slytherin hasn’t been like that since our parents were here,” A fifth year joined the conversation.

“They accuse us of cheating whenever we win anything,” said Emmeline, grumbling darkly.

“They think we’re evil whenever we mention using blood rituals or even anything remotely  _ grey. _ ”

“Not to mention that half of them are Weasleys, and therefore Blood Traitors.”

“And if they’re not Blood Traitor Weasleys, they’re probably Blood Traitors from some other family, or they don’t believe in Lady Magic.”

“And then they get pissy whenever we try to say that Muggleborns should celebrate Samhain with us instead of Halloween.”

“Language,” said Carrine, who walked into the common room at that very moment. “What are we talking about?”

“Why Gryffindors suck.”

“Two words,” the prefect said, “Percy Weasley.” Almost everyone groaned. “I’m curious, how many of you has he taken points from so far this school year?”

At least half of the people in the common room raised their hands. 

“Ten points to Slytherin for honesty,” she smirked, then paused. “Well at least if you’re not in his year you don’t have to deal with him in classes.”

“He’s such an ass-licker,” said a fourth year boy. Carrine pretended to not hear him.

“Gryffindors literally get away with everything.”

“They act like they’re always the good guys and we’re  _ always  _ the bad guys.”

“Even though there's more bullies in Gryffindor than any other house combined, just saying.”

“And I know for a fact that there’s been dark lords from Gryffindor too. Just cause You-Know-Who was a Slytherin doesn’t mean that the Gryffs and the Ravens haven’t had their fair share of terrible people too.”   
“Why not Hufflepuff?”

Hermione laughed, “Honestly, there’s no way that there’s ever been a Dark Lord or Lady that was a Hufflepuff.”

“What even brought this conversation on?” a seventh year asked.

“Draco wants me to take my camera to our flying lessons with the Gryffindor so I can take pictures when Potter and Weasley fail miserably.”

“When you develop those photos, can you make a copy for me?” asked Emmeline.

Suddenly there was a great amount of Slytherins wanting photocopies. Hermione ended up starting a list so they could remember to make enough for everyone who wanted pictures. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Draco was practically vibrating with excitement. Hermione, on the other hand, was a bit nervous. As she poked at her breakfast halfheartedly, Theo looked up from his newspaper. “What’s wrong?” 

“Everyone says that the school brooms are awful! What if they break and I fall in front of everyone?”

“Well, Draco can probably catch you, I mean he’s wicked fast on any broom.”

“But if I’m too far away?”

Theo thought for a second, “I can make sure to take my wand holster and keep alert. I’ll cast a cushioning charm on the ground if you fall. But I don’t think you need to be that worried. I know you think you’re not a great flyer, but you’re pretty good at the basics. Just because you can’t do all the fancy stuff that Draco and Astoria can do doesn’t mean you’re a bad flyer or that you’re going to fall off. I mean I think out of all of us, you're the only one of us who hasn’t fallen off a broom.”

“Worst case scenario, you break your wrist and Daddy threatens to sue the school unless they get a new History of Magic teacher!” Daphne butted in, before Hermione could think of a retort to that.

“Wow, I’m thrilled to know that my mass humiliation is worth a new teacher in History of Magic.”

Daphne rolled her eyes, “Stop being melodramatic. Nobody will care  _ that  _ much if you fall off your broom. You’ve got enough acquaintances in Gryffindor to make them shut up if they make a big deal out of it. Plus, a broken wrist or ankle lasts for maybe a couple minutes until you get to the infirmary and get it fixed. A new History of Magic teacher on the other hand-”

“Daphne,” said Theo in warning.  
“I’m serious! If I have to listen to Binns butcher my favourite subject for the next seven years, I’m going to kill myself and take over the position as a ghost.”

Hermione buried her head in her hands, “Find somebody else to sue the school.”

“Draco?” Daphne said innocently, “You know what I want for my birthday present this year?” Hermione and Theo exchanged a look. “Can you fall off a school broom and break your arm or something so we can get a new History of Magic teacher?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Draco, and Daphne launched into an explanation. When she was finished he shook his head. “Nah, if  _ I  _ fell off a broom it wouldn't make any sense. Everyone already knows I’m a great flyer.”

Daphne looked at Pansy, expectantly. “Hell no.” 

Daphne looked deterred, but not defeated. Hermione didn’t realize why until she saw Daphne start walking over to Tracey and Millie. “Daphne, no!!”

“You’re such a spoilsport sometimes, Mia.”

“We’ll find some  _ other  _ way to sue the school if you want to do it  _ that  _ badly. Plus, that’s not the only way to get rid of Binns. But we are  _ not  _ falling off brooms on purpose so we hurt ourselves.”

“What if I did it?”

Everyone looked up from their breakfast and said in unison, “No, Daphne.”

The morning went by fairly smoothly despite Daphne’s complaints that they were ruining a perfectly good plan and she had no issue falling off her broom, but if they were all  _ so against it,  _ then she wouldn’t do it. By the time they were out on the Quidditch Field, Daphne had admitted defeat.

“Fine, I guess, whatever. I promise I won’t fall off of my broom,” Daphne sulked, “But if any one of you do it and then try to take credit for  _ my  _ idea...”

When the Gryffindors arrived-“ _ finally _ ” whispered Pansy-Madame Hooch, the flying instructor, came out onto the Quidditch Field. 

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Hermione got a good look at the broomstick she had stood by, which had twigs at odd angles and it looked to be past the point you would retire a broom at. Draco, who was standing next to her was looking at the broom like it had offended him, and Pansy, who was on her other side was whispering under her breath “I swear to Merlin above if I get a single splinter I will be so damned pissed.” She looked up to see Hermione glancing at her. “And you’re going to help me get it out.”

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” Shouted everyone. 

Hermione’s broom flew reluctantly into her hand after a moment’s hesitation, unlike Draco’s and Potter’s, both of whom had brooms that shot up into their hands. Tracey’s broom had moved an inch off of the ground and flopped back down. Hermione saw Neville, who was on the other side of the line with the Gryffindors, stare down at his unmoving broom. Eventually, though, everyone’s brooms were in hand, after several retries. Luckily, none of the Slytherins took more than three tries, so they didn’t look stupid. 

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. When she corrected Draco’s holding, Hermione rolled her eyes at Weasley and Potter’s delight. Draco knew how to hold his broom, he had been taught by a professional Quidditch Player, albeit a former one. Just because it wasn’t the technique beginners used didn’t mean that he was wrong. Draco seemed equally incensed by the two’s delight, and murmured to Daphne to keep her camera ready when they got into the skies. He also changed his grip back to the one he’d been using for years the moment Hooch’s back was turned.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —”

Hermione turned to see Neville shoot up into the sky perhaps a couple dozen feet. He was about as white as a sheet. He looked down at the ground that was further and further away and slipped off of his broom. With a great  _ crash  _ he slammed into the ground, and Hermione winced. 

Madam Hooch leaned over Neville, who was moaning in pain, and inspected his wrist. “Broken wrist. Come on, boy — it’s all right, up you get.” She turned around to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” Neville was leaning on her heavily as they hobbled off into the castle. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco watched Hermione stare after Neville, who was limping away and saw the moment she bit her lip. Draco grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. She always bit her lip whenever she was nervous or when she was thinking particularly hard. She squeezed back gratefully and let go, releasing her lip at the same time. She started looking around at the line of Gryffindors. Suddenly, her eyes caught on something . Draco followed her line of vision to a glittering glass ball lying in the grass. It must’ve been Neville’s-Draco had thought he had seen the boy holding it earlier that day.

Making a split second decision, he quickly darted over and scooped the ball up. He retreated to the safety of Slytherins before anybody could react. He just hoped that nobody would make a fuss over it. He was wrong.

“Give that here, Malfoy.” It was Potter.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why? It isn’t yours.”

“It’s Neville’s.”

“I  _ know  _ that, why do you think I grabbed it?”

“So you can steal it!” chimed in Weasley. 

Draco looked at him dumbfounded, “Why would I need a Remembrall? I-” but he was cut off by Potter again. 

“You don’t. You’re just taking it so Neville won’t be able to find it later!!” he cried out. “Give it here!” Potter lunged at Draco.

In that moment, Draco panicked. He had never exactly had anybody  _ lunge  _ at him before. So he did what any logical person would do: grabbed his broom and took off. He turned around when he was maybe ten feet off of the ground. Potter was rushing towards his broom, apparently ready to follow him into the skies. Hermione was scowling at him. Draco was sure she was going to yell at him in the Common Room later that night, but honestly, it would be worth it. Number one, Hermione cared about Neville for some reason. She was sweet like that, Draco supposed, and it was one of the reasons he liked her so much. But did she always have to go for the most lost of causes? And Gryffindors? Not to mention, Gryffindors whose parents were tortured into insanity by his crazy Aunt? But it didn’t matter. If Hermione cared about Neville, which she did, she would want to return his Remembrall to him later and use it as an excuse to make sure he was okay. And Number Two, it wound up the Gryffindors, most importantly, Potter and Weasley.

Draco didn’t think he had ever really despised someone before, much less hated them. He was reconsidering that with Weasley and Potter. With Weasley, the hatred was for obvious reasons. Between the Blood Feud, the boy’s atrocious manners, and the way that he was just in general an unlikable person, it wasn’t easy to guess where the dislike stemmed from. But Potter? Potter was different. Maybe Draco could’ve gotten over the public rejection of friendship. Even the fact that Potter was an insufferable Gryffindor wasn’t what made Draco dislike the Boy-Who-Lived as much as he did. No. It was that Weasley would say whatever he could to hurt Hermione and Boy-Wonder would do nothing. Say nothing. Maybe even laugh. Potter was supposed to be the epitome of goodness and kindness and all that rot. Yet he let his best friend get away with making snide comment after snide comment, insult after insult, blow after blow, all of them aimed at Hermione. Draco wasn’t sure why Weasley focused on Hermione. Maybe it was because the two of them were close and he wanted to get at Draco? Maybe it was because she was the nicest out of all of them? Whatever the reason, Draco didn’t care. All he cared about was the look of hurt that would flash across Hermione’s eyes every time she heard the Weasel say something nasty about her. Potter had to see it too. Mia wasn’t  _ that  _ good at hiding her emotions. And yet Potter did  _ nothing. _ Hermione was innocent. She had never spoken a word to Weasley or Potter before they talked to her. And still, Potter let his best friend drag some innocent girl through the mud. That was why Draco hated Potter. Perhaps even more than he hated Weasley. He hadn’t exactly had high expectations for Weasley. That wasn’t to say his expectations had been high for Potter either, not after the boy had rejected his overtures so rudely, but Merlin, he had hit rock bottom and kept digging.

Speaking of Potter, he was on his broom-predictable Gryffindor. He glanced down to see that Daphne had her camera out. Good. 

“Give it here,” Potter called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!” That was it. Draco was not going to back down.

“Oh, yeah?”

Potter, out of nowhere, charged at Draco. Draco was shocked. You were  _ not  _ supposed to charge at someone on a broom! That was like Flying 101, for Merlin's sake!

Draco, caught off guard, turned in a twist to get out of Potter’s path. Unfortunately, the Remembrall slipped from his hand. 

Potter took a nosedive for it-which was just as stupid, they could _reparo_ the Remembrall or buy Neville a new one if it broke-but Draco guessed the thought never crossed Potter’s mind. _Somehow,_ the boy didn’t break his neck, and swerved up at the last second after _catching the Remembrall,_ and held it up in the sky over his head. But while Potter was displaying his stupidity for all to see, Draco returned to the ground, next to Hermione, who was glaring at him. A teacher would be out at any moment. A teacher who would give him detention for doing something so ridiculously stupidly Gryffindorish-ly reckless. The last time he had tried to make a move that stupidly reckless in Quidditch, Mother hadn’t let him ride his broom for a week and had made him write an essay on the dangers of Quidditch. 

“HARRY POTTER!” And there was McGonagall. Good. “Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —” Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “— how dare you — might have broken your neck —”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor —” Patil started to say, before McGonagall fixed her with a glare. 

“Be quiet, Miss Patil —”

“But Malfoy —” Weasley started to say, but Draco was pleased to see Professor McGonagall cut him off as well. 

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.” McGonagall walked off at a brisk pace, and Potter had to run to keep up. Once they were gone, everyone erupted into speech. 

“He’s gonna get expelled-” “No he won’t, he’s Harry Bloody Potter.” “He could literally kill someone and he would still be untouchable,” and “Swear to Merlin-” were heard from the Slytherin side. The Gryffindor side was bustling with praise. “That was so cool!” “I reckon he could play for  _ England!”  _ “And on a school broom too!”

When Madame Hooch returned a few minutes later, she quieted them all with a harsh gaze. “We’re missing someone,” she said.

Pansy looked up, “Well Potter decided that he was going to start flying around and Professor McGonagall saw him, and just took him off.”

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” the woman said. As Gryffindor protested with “but Malfoy!”s and “that’s not fair”s, she looked at them all and said, “and I’ll take more if you all don’t pipe down right this instant.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour later, everyone was circling around the pitch, some like Hermione flying around at a lazy pace, others like Draco and Weasley going as fast as they could without getting yelled at by Hooch. Weasley suddenly raced by Hermione and laughed, “Can you not ride a broom? Are you  _ afraid  _ of heights? Blimey, how barmy do you have to be? You have to be absolutely stupid to fall off of a broom!”

“Sod off, Weasley.”

He glared at her and turned around, continuing to race through the skies, this time with his hands in the air. Hermione noted that Daphne had her camera out, taking pictures of everyone, but focusing on Weasley. When she turned back around to look, the ginger was flying at probably the fastest you could go on a broom as old as the school brooms were. Suddenly, the broom he was riding on stopped. This might not have necessarily been a problem in normal circumstances, but he hadn’t been holding on. He vaulted forward and into the grass about forty feet. The boy had been spared most of the impact with a cushioning charm quickly cast by Madame Hooch, but Hermione could tell his mouth was bloody and that he held a few teeth in his hands.

At the end of the period, Madame Hooch blew her whistle and everyone flew back to the ground. “Alright, I’ve been taking notes on how all of you can fly and if I think you need help, I’m going to list out your name and you will have to come to the Quidditch field every Thursday at this time for the rest of the year so I can get you to a point where you can ride a broom to my liking. If you fell off at any point during this lesson, were flying in a reckless manner or with horribly improper technique, or you looked scared to death up there, I will probably be calling your name. I don’t care if your Great Uncle Steven flies like that,  _ you  _ fell off. With that being said, I look forward to having you in my class for the rest of the year if your name is called.” She cleared her throat. “Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Fay Dunbar, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, and Ronald Weasley must all continue this course for the rest of the year. Patil, make sure Longbottom knows, will you?.” Hermione let out a breath of relief. She did feel bad for everyone who had to continue lessons, but honestly, she was just so happy that she wasn’t one of them that she could’ve cried out in relief. The less time on a shoddy broomstick in the air, the better. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night at dinner, Hermione pointedly ignored Draco and talked to Pansy instead. She had half considered sitting and eating with Hannah but Pansy had waved her over when she started walking towards the Hufflepuff table. After half an hour of trying - and failing - to get Hermione’s attention, Draco went to the Gryffindor table with Greg and Vincent. 

“I know you’re pissed at Draco for breaking the rules, but do you really have to ignore him?” Daphne said.

“Those school brooms are death traps! And he shouldn’t have let Potter get him riled up like that. Honestly, none of you should. Verbal jabs are one thing, but going straight to brawling? What are we, Gryffindors?” Pansy nodded. Hermione continued, “And just why are you guys so mean to Weasley? I mean, like, I despise him, but all of you go out of your way to goad him.”

Theo’s face darkened, “Well, when he called you and Daphne slags, I decided that he had lived a long enough life.”

“Same here,” said Daphne.

“I thought you said you didn’t care?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t care when he says that about me. But you do. And I also don’t particularly care for him calling you a slag. He shouldn’t say that stuff about you,” Daphne glared across the hall. 

“In Italy, if a Wizard insults a Witch, to let it go by and not retaliate at some point is the highest form of disrespect,” Blaise said. “And you deserve respect.”

“Well, he just annoys me,” piped up Pansy, “More than anyone else. So I try to annoy him just as much as he annoys me, although I don’t quite think that’s possible.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “And, yeah, okay, maybe I was a bit pissed off about what he said about you guys.”

Hermione laughed, “Pansy! Is that  _ emotion _ that you’re showing? That you actually care?”

“Yeah, yeah, sod off everyone. What about you, Draco?”

Hermione turned around to see Draco had returned to his seat. She shot a glare at Pansy, who stuck up her middle finger. Daphne and Blaise burst into laughter, and Theo was smirking. Draco just looked confused. 

“What do I think about what?” he asked.

“Mia wanted to know why everyone hates Wealsey so much.”

“Well like why everyone goes out of their way to rile him up,” Hermione added on, before remembering she was giving Draco the silent treatment. 

“He made you cry,” said Draco simply.

“The blood feud isn’t the motivating factor?” Hermione asked, unable to help herself. 

“Do you see me going out of my way to torment the Weasley twins or Prefect Weasley? Granted, I don’t see them much, but if I wanted to, I could definitely make their lives less fun,” Draco said. “And are you done giving me the silent treatment?”

“Are you going to apologise for letting Potter wind you up enough to break the rules in front of eighteen witnesses and then, oh, I don’t know, getting on a school broom without supervision when it’s so old, it could break at any second, and you could fall and wind up breaking your neck?”

Draco looked sheepish, “Sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to get you worried,” He sat down. “Maybe this isn’t the best time but I should probably tell you that well, IkindofchallengedPottertoaduelatmidnight.”

“You  _ what? _ ” 

“I challenged Potter to a duel, in the trophy room, at midnight. Vince is my second. Weasley is Potter’s.”

Hermione counted to ten and then back down before responding. “Are you a  _ Gryffindor  _ or a  _ Slytherin _ ?”

Draco looked offended, “Of  _ course  _ I’m a Slytherin!”

“Well you aren’t acting like one! Do you want to get caught by Filch?”

Draco flushed, “Well I wasn’t actually going to do it. I was hoping you would tell Filch that there’d be people in the Trophy Room at midnight and they’d get caught and have to have detention with Filch and shine all the trophies the muggle way.”

“And why do  _ I  _ have to tell Filch?”

“‘Cause you’re a girl and you look the most innocent out of all of us,” he said sheepishly, “And you’ve got the best grades out of all of us in our year, so if someone finds out you helped set them up, none of the teachers will believe it.”

“Fine. But you have to carry all my books the next time we go to Flourish and Blotts.”

“Okay,” said Draco, pausing for a moment. “Am I forgiven?”

Hermione let out a long sigh, “I  _ guess _ .” 


	7. Burning All The Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic Attack, talking about Death Eater activities in non-graphic detail

A few weeks later, it was the day of the night Samhain started. Hannah was sitting in Herbology, listening to Professor Sprout talk about Mandrake Roots and taking detailed notes. Strangely enough, Ron Weasley sat across from her. He had deliberately sat down at her table at the beginning of class. It didn’t make much sense to Hannah, but it didn’t really matter. 

As the lesson ended, Ron turned to her and hissed, “So you’re friends with them?”

“Friends with who?” Hannah asked.

“You sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast.”

“Yeah. I mean it’s not against the rules or anything. I was sitting with my friends in Slytherin.”

“So you’re friends with _slimy snakes?_ ” His face was red.

“Don’t call them that!”

“They’re all evil! The whole lot of them. You shouldn’t be friends with them!”

“They’re not evil!” Hannah said hotly, “And I’ve known them for forever. They’re some of my best friends and I’m not going to stop just because some Gryffindor I’ve never spoken to before decides that I can’t.”

“But their parents are Death Eaters! If you associate with them willingly, you’ve got to be evil too. I bet you even wish that You-Know-Who was back!” he spat venomously.

“No I don't!” Hannah cried before storming off. At lunch, she sat next to Susan, and picked at her plate. She felt horrible. Most of Susan’s whole family was killed off by You-Know-Who and his followers. And Mr. Malfoy couldn’t be evil, he was so nice to her! But the pit in her stomach wouldn’t settle, and she sat quietly for the rest of lunch before heading off to Charms.

* * *

In Charms, Hermione was sitting next to Hannah, who was uncharacteristically quiet and reserved. Hermione, as per usual, got the charm immediately, and was working on how many feathers she could float at one time. She was currently at six. When the bell rang, Hermione pulled Hannah into the nearest bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Hannah sniffled, which leaked into a tear, which quickly turned into racking sobs with gasping breaths and shaking hands. Hermione realized Hannah was having a panic attack. 

“Okay Hannah,” she said in a soothing voice, “It’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be okay. Can you breathe with me? We’re going to count to five and breath in and hold for five and breath out for five, okay?” Hannah nodded. “Breath in, one...two...three...four...five. Hold, one...two...three...four...five. Out one...two...three...four...five.” She repeated the mantra until Hannah’s shallow breaths deepened and her hands stopped shaking. Hannah finally was somewhat stabilized, and she hugged Hermione tightly, tears streaming down her face. “What happened?”

Hannah took in a shaky breath. “We had breakfast together this morning at the Slytherin table, remember? Well, you know how Hufflepuff has Herbology with Gryffindor?” Hermione nodded. “Well, Ron Weasley sat across from me. And then-and then-” the girl dissolved into tears again and her breathing quickened.

“Breathe with me, Hannah. In, one...two...three...four...five, hold, one...two...three...four...five out, one...two...three...four...five.”

“So he sat across from me. And then he turned to me at the end of the lesson and he asked me why I sat with the Slytherins at breakfast this morning and I told him that I had friends in Slytherin, like you and Daphne and Pansy and Theo and Draco and he said ‘you’re friends with them?’ and I said yeah, and then he said that if I associated with ‘slimy snakes’ then I had to be evil and that I want You-Know-Who back ‘cause Pansy and Theo and Draco’s dads are all Death Eaters. And I _don’t_ and Mr. Malfoy is really nice and I’ve never even really talked to Mr. Parkinson or Mr. Nott but Theo and Pansy are nice and they didn’t _seem_ evil and Susan’s mom was killed by Voldemort and that’s why Susan has to live with her Aunt Amelia and-and-and-” she burst into tears again. 

Once Hermione had calmed Hannah down, she took in a deep breath. “Well Uncle Lucius was talking to me and Draco and Daphne about that over the summer. His father, Draco’s grandfather, well he and You-Know-Who were friends back in school. You-Know-Who claimed that he was sent by Lady Magic to make the world better. And this was right around Grindelwald’s time and right after, so it seemed plausible, you know? Plus he was really really really good at magic. He always got things on the first try. Like me.” she mumbled the last part.

“Stop that train of thought right now, Hermione. You’re nothing like You-Know-Who,” Hannah whispered fiercely. Hermione shrugged and looked down. “You aren’t. I promise. You’re an amazing person. You’re not like _him._ ”

“Well anyways, he was really good at magic and it seemed like you know, everything lined up. So Draco’s grandfather and Theo’s father and Pansy’s grandfather and a bunch of other people believed him. They ended up getting the Dark Mark, ‘cause You-Know-Who said that they should. And when Uncle Lucius came of age, his father made him get marked, because at the time it was a symbol of being close to someone sent by Lady Magic. At first it was supporting various laws and attending certain galas if you wanted to. But around the seventies, it started getting bad. You had to support the cause in one way or another, and Uncle Lucius didn’t want to murder people. So he would provide support through money.”

“Did he ever have to kill anybody?”

“Well… Draco’s grandfather _did_ like the way that things were going. And he bought into the whole Pureblood ideology thing. He got mad at Uncle Lucius for not going on the raids and trying to kill people, saying that he wasn’t dedicated to the cause. He kept on pressuring Uncle Lucius to join him on the raids and Uncle Lucius was able to keep him off until September 19th, 1980. Abraxas Malfoy was so angry that Uncle Lucius kept on putting off something he viewed as an honor, so he Imperius’d his own son. They went into Muggle London, and he made Uncle Lucius kill the family. It was two Muggles and a little baby girl.” Tears tracked down Hermione’s face. “He’s still so torn up over it even though it wasn’t _him_ doing it. The little girl was maybe a few months older than Daphne and I were at the time, and Draco had just been born that June. He goes to their grave every year and makes sure there’s always fresh flowers there.” She looked up to see Hannah silently crying. “Some people think that him getting off on his charges for being a Death Eater under the Imperius were just him trying to get out of Azkaban, but he told us that he had settled with the fact that he’d go to Azkaban. He thought that Draco and Aunt Cissy would be better off without him! He wasn’t even going to put up a defense! Aunt Cissy and my parents were the only reason that he tried. They sent him to a Mind Healer so he could come to terms with himself.”

“That’s _terrible_ ,” whispered Hannah, “His own _father_ making him kill a baby.”

“Professor Snape also used to be a Death Eater, but it was because _Dumbledore_ ,” she spat the name, “Pressured him into doing it so he could spy. He didn’t even get the mark until Dumbledore told him to. He only killed a few times in self defense. I’ve seen him and Uncle Lucius sometimes get really quiet on certain days of the year, and drink whiskey, just the two of them. Those are the days I know that something happened.”

“That blood is on the Headmaster’s hands,” said Hannah quietly, “Not his.”

“He was in the same state as Uncle Lucius over it all. They went to the same Mind Healer over it, and like I said, they bonded over it. I mean there are some things only a few people can understand.”

“What about Pansy and Theo’s dads?”

Hermione grimaced, “Well Pansy’s father chases whatever side that he thinks will win. And he will do anything to rise in the ranks. And Theo’s father was like Draco’s grandfather. I know Pansy and Theo don’t believe in any of that stuff though. I mean Pansy has a superiority complex, but I think that extends to everyone, regardless of bloodline.”

Hannah wiped away her tears with the heels of her hands as a giggle escaped from her. 

“You know, I’m really glad my father or his father didn’t get swept up in any of it. But honestly, it’s more through the luck that they didn’t go to Hogwarts at the same time as You-Know-Who that they stayed neutral.” She paused. “You know, Draco’s Aunt Bellatrix was a complete Death Eater. Absolutely mental. Aunt Cissy once said that she thinks that Bella was in love with You-Know-Who.” They both made faces.

“If he went to Hogwarts with Theo’s dad, he had to be like thirty years older than her!” Hannah snorted.

“Maybe it’s a generational thing. From what I remember about Theo’s mum, she was young.”

Hannah bit her lip, “I always feel so bad for him. I couldn’t imagine growing up without my mum, and his dad seems distant.”

“Yeah. He spends a lot of time with us though, and I know my parents try to fill in for what they can.”

“I’m really glad our houses are close,” said Hannah, “I couldn’t imagine not being friends with you guys.”

“Me neither.” They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. “Do you want to go to the feast now?”

“Sure,” nodded Hannah, “Let me just wash out my eyes so I don’t look awful.” She looked in the mirror, “Gods, they’re so red.”

It was at that moment, they heard thundering footsteps. They both paused, and looked at each other.

“You heard that?” Hermione asked.

Hannah nodded. Hermione heard her fervently start murmuring a prayer to Lady Magic, and she quickly started whispering her own. The footsteps got louder and louder-they were dull and heavy, and decidedly not human. Hermione pulled Hannah with her to the back of the bathroom, both of them holding their wands. After an agonizingly long wait filled with thudding hearts and bated breaths, the source of the footsteps was finally apparent. A twelve foot mountain troll staggered into the bathroom, and Hermione was trying her best to not scream.

“Hannah,” she whispered, “I don’t know much about mountain trolls. Do you?”

Hannah shook her head. “Then I guess we’ll have to use trial and error?”

“We can hopefully hold it off long enough for a Professor to arrive.” Hannah nodded.

Hermione was suddenly incredibly grateful that her parents had taught her basic defense with a wand before Hogwarts. She lifted her wand. “ _Stupefy!_ ” she cried out, watching the spell bounce off of the troll. “Great.”

She and Hannah took turns firing spells at the troll, who was getting more and more angry. Hermione was casting spells that she didn’t know and she didn’t know _how_ she knew, but they came to her as if she had used them a hundred times before. _Avis_ created a flock of angry birds that pecked at the troll’s eyes. That was followed rapidly by Hannah’s jelly legs jinx, and then their combined cry of “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

The troll roared and staggered around the bathroom wildly until it was petrified. That was when it started to fall. Unfortunately, it started falling towards Hermione and Hannah. Hannah grabbed Hermione’s hands and they made a mad dash, narrowly escaping the body of the fallen troll. The birds that Hermione had conjured continued to swirl around the Troll’s head, pecking at his eyes, but the troll couldn’t move his arms to shoo them away. Hermione, feeling almost sorry for the troll, waved her wand, and the birds disappeared.

They were both breathing hard, bent over and trying to catch their breath. They looked at each other, and started giggling. The giggles turned into hysterical laughter with heads thrown back. 

“I can’t believe we just did that!” Hermione gasped out.

It was at that moment, Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo ran into the bathroom, followed by Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore. Once they each saw the troll, they stopped short.

“Holy _shite_ ,” said Pansy. The professors were too dumbfounded to dock points.

Hannah wasn’t though. “Language, Pansy.”

“You’re going to get on me about my language when you just successfully fought a _mountain troll?_ What are your _priorities_ here?”

“What...happened?” Professor McGonagall said, her ability to speak finally returned.

Hermione spoke up first. “Well, it started in Hannah’s Herbology class when _Ronald Weasley_ ,” she spat his name, “Decided to call her evil for hanging out with people in Slytherin, among some other ridiculously horribly mean and untrue things. I sat next to Hannah in Charms, which was her class after that, and I could tell she was upset. So at the end of class, I pulled her into the bathroom so she could tell me what happened.”

“What about the Halloween Feast?” Dumbledore asked.

Hannah scowled, “I wasn’t in the mood to be celebrating, sir.”

“Yes, but shouldn’t you have still come to dinner to be with your h-?”

He was cut off by twin “Albus!”s by the two Professors.

Professor McGonagall said, “The girl hardly needed to go to a feast when she was so upset. 5 points to Slytherin for being a good friend, Miss Greengrass.” She gestured for them to continue.

“Well, we were in here talking about stuff, and Hermione was calming me down, ‘cos I had a panic attack,” Hannah mumbled. Professor Snape’s face darkened. “And when I was okay again, we were getting ready to go to the feast.”

“Then we heard footsteps, and the troll came into the bathroom,” Hermione explained. “We first tried to stun it, but it bounced off of the troll’s skin. I think we threw every spell we knew at it. Eventually, Hannah got it with a Jelly-Legs-Jinx, and then we both cast a Full-Body-Bind on the troll. And then you guys showed up.” 

Hermione felt a subtle Legilimancy probe hit her defenses and spoke coldly, “Headmaster, you’ll find that everybody in this room is trained in Occlumency. Do keep that in mind before you try to go prodding about.”

Everyone stilled. Professor McGonagall looked scandalized. Professor Snape’s mouth was slightly pulled up at the corner. All of her friends were shaking in silent laughter. Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, though Hermione wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I was just checking, Miss Greengrass, to make sure you didn’t leave out any details.” He paused. “Well, I ought to be on my way. Severus, Minerva, please make sure this matter is resolved.” The old man walked off. 

Hermione wanted to scoff in disapproval, but she held herself back. 

“Fifteen points to Hufflepuff and Slytherin each for a combination of sheer luck and skill,” Professor Snape said. 

“Sir, can we go to our dormitories?” Hannah asked. With a stiff nod from each professor, Hermione and Hannah practically raced out of the bathroom. When they were a few hallways down and sure they were out of earshot, they finally slowed their pace.

“How in Merlin’s name were you allowed to come along with the Professors?” Hermione asked.

“Well,” said Draco, “We were the only ones who had any idea where you guys could be. So we might’ve used that to our advantage.” He paused. “How in the _hell_ did you defeat a Mountain Troll?”

The girls shrugged their shoulders. “Sheer luck and talent,” said Hannah in a deep voice. She and Hermione burst out into laughter, while the others stared at them.

“So was the story you were telling true?” Daphne asked.

Hermione bit her lip, “I left some bits out. Weasley decided to bring up You-Know-Who and Uncle Lucius and Mr. Nott and Mr. Parkinson.”

“Oh.”

“I filled Hannah in on Uncle Lucius’s story,” said Hermione, “I’m really sorry-”

Draco cut her off, “It’s okay. She was the only one out of us who didn’t know yet anyways, and I was planning to tell her sometime. I didn’t think it would be fair to keep her out of the loop.”

“If she told you my dad’s alright, that was a lie,” said Pansy, “He’s a right bastard.”

“So’s mine,” said Theo. 

“I’m sorry,” said Hannah.

Pansy shrugged, “Not your fault, don’t apologize for it.”

“Anything else?” Draco asked.

“Well, Hermione conjured this flock of birds and got them to peck out the Troll’s eyes,” said Hannah.

“I didn’t know the spell before, either,” Hermione added.

“It was Lady Magic,” said Theo simply. 

“I think we’re missing the _most_ important part of this all,” said Draco suddenly. Pansy seemed to follow his line of reasoning and grinned evilly.

“Time to get back at Weasley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> facing a bit of writer's block on chapter 12, which is what i'm currently writing. as soon as i can get through that chapter, i've been so ready to write some of the chapters after that, so i'm just currently trying to get through 12 so i can get to chapters i've been looking forward to writing and new characters i've been dying to introduce for the longest time lol. i've also mapped out what happens in each chapter up through 7th year and it's looking like there will be over 60 chapters in total, probably anywhere between 10-15 more depending on where my ideas take me. anyways just wanted to share a bit about my writing process and all that. hope you enjoyed this chapter! the next chapter was my favorite chapter that i've written so far, so be on the lookout next friday for that :)


	8. Better than Revenge

The art of payback is a thing that Slytherins take delight in. When it spread through Slytherin that Ron Weasley had put a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin in harm's way and now was in line for some revenge, suddenly, the group of first years were _very_ popular. They had decided though, to keep the circle small-ish, and only included Carrine, Thomas, and Emiline in their planning. 

It was a Friday afternoon in the Room of Requirement, and the group of Slytherins were lounged about. 

“Now how,” said Draco, “Do we get back at Weasley?”

“I feel like I could write an essay on the possibilities,” Emiline’s eyes shined darkly.

“No maiming,” Carrine threw in. “That’ll get us in trouble.”

“Only if it’s traced back to us,” Thomas said.

“ _No maiming_.”

“We can’t sabotage his grades,” said Pansy, “They’re already bad, and I don’t think he cares.”

“He got a Dreadful on his DADA essay,” said Daphne, “You know, the one about vampires? Could not have failed that if I tried.”

“We could cause him mass humiliation in the Great Hall,” Theo suggested. 

“Yeah, but then the Weasley twins could try and get back at us. Or Slytherin as a whole,” Emiline rolled her eyes, “And I cannot stand them as it is, and that’s without a target on my back.”

“Not because Fred Weasley has a crush on you?” said Hermione slyly, “I mean I’ve seen him staring at you in the Great Hall on multiple occasions. His pranks _are_ rather clever. If anything, I think he and George Weasley are rather brilliant to be able to think them up and execute their plans in the way that they do. Do _you_ like him?”

“As _if!_ Just because the twins are the only Weasleys in the school that aren’t terrible rotten awful people doesn’t mean that they don’t annoy me. They’re so childish. But now we’re off topic. I thought we were trying to figure out a way to get Ron Weasley back for almost getting my baby cousin killed by a mountain troll, not discussing infuriating boys who don’t have a thing for me.”

“Oh my gods.” Carrine sat straight up. “Percy isn’t wearing that ugly old rat around every day at school anymore. In fact, I saw it on Ron Weasley’s shoulder the other day. We should totally kidnap his rat!” 

Pansy said, “That’s a good start, but we should do another thing on top of it. I mean, it’s a stupid rat.”

“What could we do?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Daphne grinned.

* * *

The plan was put into effect. First step was Hermione getting into the Gryffindor dorms. Luckily, she asked Neville if she could see the plants he was growing in his dormitory. Neville, of course, agreed, and that was how Hermione found herself at the painting of the Fat Lady. Neville had given her the password, and thankfully, with enough flattery and smiles, she got through the portrait. 

Draco’s job, in the meantime, was to distract Potter and Weasley long enough for Hermione to not have to see them and deal with their suspicions. When he found out that this was his part of the mission, he grinned. “You’re giving me full permission to say _whatever I want_ to Scarhead and the Weasel? It’s like Yule came early!”

She shook her head, and looked around the common room for Neville. She wasn’t wearing any Slytherin colors, and she was a first year, so people weren’t really paying attention to her, which was good. The last thing she wanted was for Weasley’s rat to go missing after someone in Slytherin robes was seen in Gryffindor Tower. The ruse would be up in half of a moment. She spotted Neville, sitting in the corner, reading an obnoxiously thick book on underwater plants. She ran up to him and smiled brightly.

“Hi, Nev!”

The boy grinned, “Hey, Hermione. It’s really cool that you want to see my plants. Not a lot of people care about them.”

Hermione shrugged, “Well that’s their loss.”

“If anything, the biggest challenge is keeping them alive with four other boys in my room not trampling on them accidentally or somehow killing them,” he said conspiratorially.

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “There are five people per dorm in Gryffindor?”

Neville looked confused. “Yeah? Is that not the case in Slytherin?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, we’re in groups of twos and threes.”

Neville whistled. “That’s a lucky break right there. You know, Ron Weasley snores like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I don’t know how you can put up with him, or Potter for that matter, but that’s just me.”

Neville shifted, “Harry’s pretty alright to me. I mean he doesn’t talk loads to me, but he’s not mean.”

“Yeah, but he never tells Weasley to shut up whenever he starts being a tosser.”

“Maybe he doesn’t notice?”  
“Maybe. But I know most Gryffindors don’t like Slytherins. Honestly,” said Hermione, before pausing for effect. “I think it’s rather brave that you’re still friends with me even though I’m in Slytherin. I think that really makes you more Gryffindor than everyone else.”

Neville smiled sheepishly, “I guess. I mean I’m not terribly brave or anything-”

Hermione cut him off, “Neville, I’m not about to listen to you put yourself down. You’re the best Gryffindor of them all, in my opinion. That’s gotta count for something.”

Neville flushed and scratched the back of his head. “Well, here’s my dorm.” He opened the door. “My bed’s the one by the window, you know, for the plants to get some light.”

Hermione let out a small gasp. The room was a complete and utter mess. Truly disgusting-the habitat of boys with absolutely no cleanliness whatsoever. Dirty socks hung across dressers, and day old underwear sat in piles. House elf or no house elf, Hermione knew that Draco and Theo would never let their rooms get anywhere near this messy, especially not Theo, who was a bit of a neat freak. But then there was Neville’s corner. It was bright and airy-the bed was made, and everything was neat and pristine. But what drew her attention was the miniature garden he had created. Plants hung from the ceiling, grew from pots attached to the walls and planters on the floor. It was bright and clean and beautiful.

“Neville, this is incredible!” 

“You really think so?” 

“Gods, Neville, do you not see how beautiful it is?” Then she saw it-in the corner was a small bookshelf on the messier end of the room, across from a bed with a small dresser that displayed a cage with a gross looking rat in it. “Is it okay if I look at the books in the bookshelf?”

“Sure,” said Neville, “All of them are mine though, none of the other guys really read.”

“When do you water your plants?” she asked, as she skimmed the book titles. 

“Actually, right about now. If you’re okay with it, I’m going to run to the bathroom and fill up my can with water so I can come back in here and water them. I mean, like as long as you don’t feel uncomfortable with being alone in a guy’s dormitory with…” he gestured towards the pile of underwear, blushing, “stuff all over.”

“I’ll be fine, Neville,” she smiled warmly. When Neville grabbed the watering can and left the room, Hermione sprung into action. She unlocked the latch and grabbed the rat, which was sleeping. It didn’t even stir when she held it. She put the rat in a small bag that she was never going to use after this. Seriously, did Weasley never wash the rat? That wasn’t a huge shock, though, given that the dormitory was the way that it was. She dashed back to the side of the room with the bookshelf and was reading the back of a book when Neville came back in with a full watering can. As he watered his plants, Hermione smiled. He looked in his element, which was such a contrast to how Neville was normally. Hermione earnestly hoped that he would go into Herbology as a career-he’d be absolutely brilliant. 

She glanced at her watch. She was sure that Draco would be able to keep Weasley and Potter occupied for longer than necessary, but she didn’t want to risk anything, and that wasn’t to mention that there were two other boys-Seamus Finneagan and Dean Thomas-who also shared the room. Even though Finnegan had claimed that she was ‘alright for a snake’, she didn’t want to test how far that extended. As for Thomas, she had no idea his opinion on the subject.

“Hey, Neville, I have to go. I promised Pansy I would be back down in the dungeons by four so we can work on our Charms Paper, and it’s already three thirty, and I don’t want her to get mad just because I was a minute or two later than I said I’d be. But your plants look absolutely incredible! I’d love to come up here again maybe in the spring and see their progress?”

Neville beamed, “Sure, Hermione, that’d be great! Thanks for stopping by.”  
Hermione nodded and then left Gryffindor Tower as quickly as she could without raising suspicion. She was on the fourth floor over by the library when she saw a flash of red and black hair-Weasley and Potter. She walked past them briskly, ignoring their glares and mutterings. Whatever Draco said must’ve worked them up. She was just thankful that Weasley wasn’t about to start attacking her. When she finally got back to the dungeons, she raced into the Common Room, where everyone was waiting. She held out the bag triumphantly.

“You got it?” Daphne asked.

“Yeah, though I think I’m going to burn this little bag after I take it out. It’s wretchedly filthy.” Hermione scrunched her nose. “The thing smells weird too. Oh! You should’ve seen their dorm room. Theo, it would’ve given you a heart attack.” She sat down, dramatically throwing herself onto the couch. “There were piles of socks and underwear all over. The only bed made was Neville. Actually his section was really nice, the plants really brightened it up and he keeps it just as clean as you do, Theo.”

Theo scoffed. “Impossible.”

“No, I swear, it was like a line drawn between dirty and absolutely pristine. And! There are _five_ people in every dorm room. _Five._ ”

Everyone pulled back. “They must not have any room at all!” said Thomas.

“Five?” asked Emiline, “Are you sure? I only have one other roommate and sometimes I feel like the dorm is a bit too small. Did they even have room for anything other than beds in there?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, they had these little trunks at the end of their beds, and there was a really little bookshelf where the rat was. Shocker of the century, Neville is the only person with books on the bookshelf.”

“Never would’ve guessed,” snorted Daphne.

“You’re sure Weasley didn’t have a little Robert Frost? No Aristotle? Or even any Shakespeare?” Pansy put a hand over her heart, “Color me shocked! He just _oozes_ culture.”

“Speaking of Weasley,” said Hermione, “What’d you say to him and Potter? They looked pretty mad when I passed them on the fourth floor.”

“They didn’t say anything to you?” Draco sounded worried.

“No, I passed them pretty quickly,” Hermione said.

Draco leaned back, relieved. “Good. Didn’t want them taking their anger at me out on you. As for what I said to them, well, I may have compared Weasley’s mother to a shrew and a variety of other unflattering animals, and I may or may not have insinuated that Arthur Weasley will literally never go anywhere higher in the Ministry than his dead-end useless job that he’s in right now. And as for Potter, I may or may not have called him a coward for just letting his best mate pick on a girl. As well as a few other things. But the best part is,” he grinned, “Every single word of it was true. Molly Weasley is a shrew. Arthur Weasley will never get a promotion. And Potter is a coward. But you know what Weasley let slip? Apparently Potter didn’t get in trouble for the stunt he pulled in Flying. In fact, he’s the seeker for the Gryffindor team. And he got a Nimbus 2000. I almost thought he was lying but then I remembered seeing Potter get a broomstick-shaped package a week back.”

Emiline was fuming. “What!? I couldn’t try out for the Slytherin team until second year! And I was on reserves that year! If I could’ve tried out First Year, I totally would’ve made reserves and been able to play Second Year! I only _just_ got the position of Beater!”

Draco nodded, “Yeah, typical Gryffindor favoritism. I was pretty mad about it, but then I told Weasley that he was the one Weasley with absolutely nothing at all going for him. That was like meditation or something for me. I mean, I’m still pretty mad about it, sure, but then I remembered that my best friend’s cousin is a beater, who can hurl 20 pound balls at the Seeker at 100 kilometers an hour.” He looked at Emiline meaningfully. “And he’ll probably suck. And I can try out for seeker next year, because Higgs is in seventh year, so he’ll be leaving.”

“Higgs is really something, man,” said Thomas, “Head Boy and Quidditch Captain? That’s what I hope I’m doing come Seventh Year. Well maybe not Head Boy, Carrine’s kind of got Head Girl on lock and there’s no way Dumbledore would have double Slytherin Heads. Any other house, sure, but not Slytherin.”

“So you’re one of the three Chasers,” said Theo, “The other two are Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint, right? Miles Bletchley is Keeper. Who’s the other Beater, then?”

“It’s Alfie Selwyn, he’s a sixth year, and he’s my cousin on my Mum’s side,” said Emiline. 

“Are you guys going to look at the stupid rat that I got or are we going to continue talking about Quidditch?” sighed Hermione. 

“Oh, yeah, let’s look at the rat,” said Daphne, “So we can get it out of your bag so we can burn it. Like as soon as possible.”

Hermione took the small bag and gently pushed the rat out onto the table without making contact with it at any point. It looked up at them for the first time, and then went back to sleep.

“Ew,” said Pansy. Carrine took out her wand and cast a _scourgify_ on the rat, removing years of grime and filth. “I still don’t like it. The sacrifices I make to torment Weasley…” she sighed dramatically.

“Well, let’s get this thing to Professor Snape. Maybe he’ll take Thomas and I to the Ministry when we get it registered,” Carrine mused, “In that case, Thomas, let’s meet back in five minutes after making sure we look alright.” She kissed him on the cheek and ran off towards the fifth year girl’s dorms. 

Thomas didn’t move. “I look alright?” he asked. Daphne gave him a thumbs up. When Carrine returned five minutes later, looking somehow _more_ perfect than she already did every day, Thomas scooped the rat up, and they left the common room.

“Now can we talk about Quidditch?” grinned Emiline.

* * *

Neither Professor Snape nor either of the Slytherin fifth year prefects were seen at dinner. But maybe an hour after, the small group of the first year Slytherins, as well as Emiline, were called to Professor Snape’s office. When they arrived, Professor Snape was wearing a straight face, Carrine seemed disturbed and Thomas looked like he wanted to laugh.

“So we went to the ministry to get the rat officially registered at the Ministry...” Carrine trailed off.

“We ran into an interesting... hiccup.” Snape finished.

Thomas rolled his eyes at their stalling. “You know how when you get a pet registered with the ministry so they make sure people aren’t like sneaking dragons into the country or anything, they run a series of tests on the animal? That they aren’t diseased, they aren’t illegal, or like that they aren’t an grubby thirty something year old man in the form of an animagus, one who was supposedly killed thirteen years ago by some supposedly dark wizard who also killed a bunch of muggles on a street? Well, he was fine for the first few tests. No rabies and he wasn’t some mysterious breed of rat that turned into a Chimera. He didn’t even have fleas or anything, which was a real shock given that he was owned by the Weasleys. There _was_ a slight issue on the grubby thirty year old supposed to be dead animagus test. If you’ve been picking up on the subtle little hints I’ve been dropping, you’d know that he was a thirty year-”

“They get the point Thomas, they’re not stupid,” Carrine chided gently. “Anyways, the rat Ron Weasley, and previously Percy Weasley, has been carrying around and sleeping in the same room and maybe even bed with is Peter Pettigrew.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence. “You’re _joking_ ,” Pansy managed to get out.

“Well,” said Snape, “There are a _few_ upsides to this.”  
Everyone looked at him incredulously. “Well, let’s just say that the rat that Mr. Weasley has been sleeping with for twelve years is a man, but let’s theorize that hypothetically, instead of just finding it on the ground, as Carrine claimed-”

“Plausible deniability,” she inserted.

“You hypothetically used Hermione’s connection to Mister Longbottom to get inside the Gryffindor dorms and she hypothetically stole the rat as revenge for Weasley inadvertently putting Miss Abbott and Hermione in danger by being in the same bathroom as the troll went into by bullying Miss Abbott. If I were to guess, in this scenario, the pet would become something for Slytherin to show off, and Weasley would be unable to contest the claim as it was registered through the ministry, but he would know that that was _his_ rat that they had taken, and wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

“This is a rather brilliant plan, Professor,” said Hermione, her eyes filled with innocence.

Snape smiled wryly, “It is quite brilliant. Unfortunately, if it was hypothetically derailed, it would be rather unfortunate. Coincidentally, we stopped in Diagon Alley before we returned to Hogwarts and went to Magical Menagerie. We bought a rat and changed its appearance to make it more...ah, appealing? And to add character, we vanished it’s third toe on the left paw.” He held up a rat that looked identical to the one they had _acquired_ from Weasley. 

“Thank you, Professor,” said Draco, smirking as he took the much cleaner rat from Snape’s hands. 

“Draco, Hermione, Daphne, you three are to stay behind. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are going to Floo into my office to talk about a few things. Draco, you’re their son, so you get to stay, and I figured you girls would like to see your godparents.”

Hermione and Daphne beamed. “Thank you!”

Draco handed the rat off to Thomas, before he, and everyone else, cleared the room.

A few moments later, the fire turned green, and Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy walked out of it.

There was a tangle of limbs and a massive hug that somehow caught Professor Snape up in it, who was trying to look disgruntled, although the corners of his mouth were pulled upwards. When everyone sat down, Draco looked up at his parents. “I’m really happy to see you guys, but why are you here?” 

“Well, we found out from Professor Snape that a rat you stole from the youngest Weasley son turned out to be Peter Pettigrew,” Lucius said, “Which he mentioned was for revenge. What for?”

All three of them went bright red. “Well, he might’ve told Hannah in Herbology that she was evil for being friends with Slytherin and that all of us were evil and said some really not great things about you,” said Hermione.

“Not to mention how he’s been endlessly insulting Hermione. Or the time he asked me, loudly, which one of my slag Greengrass cousins I was betrothed to,” said Draco, steely.

Lucius’s eyes flashed, before calming himself. “So it was revenge for that?”

“Not exactly,” said Daphne, as Hermione started tugging on a lock of her own hair. “So Hermione sat next to Hannah in Charms, which was her period after. Hannah’s really upset, so after the class was over, she took her to the bathroom. Hannah had a bad panic attack before Hermione could calm her down. She explained the whole story, and they were about to come to the Halloween Feast when the troll-that we had just been announced had broken into the castle during the feast by Professor Quirrell to the entire Great Hall, broke into the bathroom.”

“Long story short, we were able to beat it, and then Professors Snape and McGonagall came in with Dumbledore, as well as Pansy, Draco, Theo and Daphne,” said Hermione breathlessly, as she focused on the strand of hair wrapped around her finger..

“Ooh, you wouldn’t _believe_ what Dumbledore said!” Daphne fumed. “He asked Hannah why he didn’t come to the Halloween feast and said she should’ve been with her house! As if she couldn’t have friends outside of her house cheer her up!”

Lucius’s eyes were dark and angry and Narcissa was sitting even more rigidly than she normally did. “Anything else?” he ground out.

Hermione and Daphne said “No,” at the same time as Draco quietly said, “Yes.”

Lucius looked at Draco expectantly. “Well, Longbottom might’ve told me that he overheard Weasley saying that he wished that the troll had killed Hermione when he was in their dormitories that night.”

Hermione’s face went slack. “Why didn’t either of you tell me?”

“We didn’t want to upset you,” Draco said apologetically. 

Hermione’s lip quivered. “Somebody wants me _dead._ And I haven't even ever really done anything to him! I mean I guess we stole his rat but that was in retaliation for him almost getting me and Hannah killed.” She raced into her godfather’s arms and buried her face in his neck, who was shaking ever so slightly. 

“Why did none of you tell any of us?” he said, through clenched teeth.

“Oh please don’t be mad!” Hermione wailed, “We were going to tell you around Yule in person because that sort of stuff shouldn’t be said over a letter.” 

“Well, Lucius,” Narcissa’s voice cracked, “I think the Weasleys ought to find their lives a bit more difficult. Lucius, I want you to throw everything we have at them. Everything.” She then laid a hand on Hermione’s back and started tracing circles on it with her thumb. 

Daphne, who was silently crying, promptly stood up and rushed over to Lucius and threw her arms around Hermione, while Draco clasped his hand around Hermione’s. After a few moments, Hermione’s sobs had subsided into tears that leaked from her eyes. She slowly got up and wiped her eyes. 

“I’m a bloody mess,” she said, her smile watery. “What did you come to the school for, though? You haven’t told us yet.”

“I believe I’ve mentioned my cousin, Sirius, before.” Narcissa was staring far away, at something only she could see, the corners of her eyes slightly crinkled. “He was always rather outspoken. We were similar ages as children, so we would play together. He would be the knight to rescue me from my tower guarded by a fierce dragon. The dragon of course was a stuffed animal my father had enchanted for us when we played to fly around and give off stinging hexes if you touched it. Sirius was always so lively.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “He was absolutely terrible at holding up a mask. Couldn’t do it to save his life. This was the bane of my Aunt Walburga’s existence. Sirius saw no point in even trying to put up a mask, but instead of accepting that he was a hyper little boy, she was angry with him. They had never really gotten along, as he had never lived up to the impossible standards she set for him as the next Heir of the Black family, and he didn’t care to. 

“When he got sorted into Gryffindor, my Aunt was furious with him. Their previously strained relationship was completely destroyed. He quickly became friends with James Potter, along with Peter Pettigrew and another Gryffindor by the name of Remus Lupin. I was a year ahead of them. On the first morning, during breakfast, Walburga sent a howler to him, yelling at him for being sorted into Gryffindor and besmirching the Black name. I can still remember the tears in his eyes that I could see from three tables over. When Regulus, his younger brother, was sorted into Slytherin the next year, it got even worse. Eventually, when he was sixteen, Walburga and Orion tried to make Sirius take the Dark Mark. Walburga tortured him when he refused. Somehow, he escaped to the Potter’s house. He was blasted off of the family tapestry by Walburga.

“The Potters went into hiding in 1981, and were put under the Fidelus. Their secret keeper was supposedly Sirius. When the Fidelus was broken on the night the Dark Lord was defeated, it was assumed that Sirius was a spy, who must’ve betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord. The next morning, Pettigrew was seen confronting Sirius on the street, when, supposedly, Sirius killed him as well as twelve Muggles in an explosion. He was taken to Azkaban, where he has been for the past eleven years.”

Hemione, Draco, and Daphne sat stunned, before Daphne cleared her throat. “You said ‘supposedly’ a lot during the last part.”

“Yes, well, with the recent rediscovery of Pettigrew, a lot of these events have been thrown into question,” said Lucius.

“Did you ever believe that he did it?” asked Draco.

“Looking back on it, no, I don’t think he did. And I wouldn’t have thought so at the time either, but we were so wrapped up in everything that I’d forgotten about Sirius. I just accepted that there must’ve been something I didn’t know, and I didn’t spare it a passing thought. We had the trials with Lucius and Severus, as well as getting them back into a state in which their mental health was in a good place. Then there were you three as well, and Astoria was only six months old,” Narcissa began to cry in earnest. “We were too busy desperately trying to keep our heads above water to think about anybody else.”

“But now, we’re in a place where we can fight for Sirius. With Pettigrew showing up, we can finally get Sirius out of that hellhole,” Lucius scowled. “Who knows if he even got a trial? Everything was such a mess then, that I wouldn’t be surprised if they took their assumptions as fact and locked him away without a trial.” 

“When will you be able to get him a trial?” asked Hermione.

“Hopefully, with enough _motivation_ to get the wheels turning, he’ll have a trial within a week and a half. I will be taking you to the trial, Draco, as you are the Heir to House Black and House Malfoy, and Hermione, I’m sure your father will take you as Heir to House Greengrass.” Lucius checked his watch. “It’s getting quite late, so we should be leaving soon. Is there anything else of a pressing matter that needs to be addressed?”

Hermione shook her head, while Draco and Daphne said “YES!” in tandem. 

Draco went first. “Potter broke the rules during Flying lessons, and McGonagall caught him. And now, somehow, he’s got a broom and is playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!”

“Draco, that’s not what I quite had in mind for a pressing matter, although it is a rule that first years cannot play on the Quidditch team. We can have this conversation either before the trial or during your Winter Break. Daphne?”

Daphne looked up. “Well, _my_ matter is actually quite pressing and dire. In fact, I’d say it’s life threatening. Namely, to my own. Did you know that Professor Binns, who teaches History of Magic, is quite literally, the worst possible being for the job, and practically desecrates the subject on the daily?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write, and in terms of the writer's block I was talking about last week, we were able to get through chapters 11 & 12 so yay!!


	9. Horrified Looks From Everyone in the Room, But I’m Only Looking At You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the response for the last chapter and also for all the kudos! I never expected this kind of response when I posted this but I'm really glad that you all are enjoying this as much as I'm writing this. 
> 
> Also! You might've noticed I've put in the warning underage (consensual & mutually underage by American standards, which is where I live so) and changed the rating to Mature. This will probably change to Explicit when I get to that point in the story, which I've mapped out almost entirely in a separate google doc. It'll be around fourth year, but I'm not going to spoil any more details on that.
> 
> TW: Brief, non-detailed mentions of Death Eater Activity, including a mention of r*pe. Sirius Black & Peter Pettigrew trial, so take from that what you will to explain the above.

The first Quidditch Match of the season was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, so to say that it was something highly anticipated would be an understatement. The school was buzzing with energy. Even the new Slytherin House pet, who had been declared ‘Cheddar’ through a House Vote, was running around in circles in his large and rather decked out cage. Hermione found it almost funny how luxurious Cheddar’s cage was. There were multiple magical toys in the cage and a system of tunnels that would change day to day. Hermione had even heard a fourth year call Cheddar the wealthiest Weasley. 

Hermione and her friends had decided not to divulge the fact that this was not in fact the rat that the Weasley’s had owned, as Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa had asked for them to keep the Peter Pettigrew thing all under wraps. In fact, Hermione was pretty sure that the Weasely’s wouldn’t even know that they had been unknowingly harboring a criminal for the past eleven years. Uncle Lucius had wanted to try and throw that against them, but had decided that since they couldn’t have possibly had an idea, they wouldn’t have been charged with anything serious. And the whole point of the revenge plan was for Ron to know that Cheddar _was_ his old pet rat, although the identity of the rat had to change when the original had turned out to be an animagus. They had not yet taken Cheddar out of the Slytherin Common Room, as their plan was to wait a few weeks before introducing the world to Cheddar, so Weasley couldn’t pin anything on them. 

Although, there were two Slytherins that were more excited than Cheddar. First, was Emiline, who was practically bouncing off of the walls in excitement for her first Quidditch Match, and was frequently spotted jabbering on about her various plays and statistics about her broom and the team. Draco was just as excited, and was seen trailing Emiline around, pleading for her to knock Potter off of his broom. 

When the Saturday of the Match arrived, Hermione had trekked out to the Quidditch stands, in which she was wearing one of Emiline’s jerseys. She and Daphne had also made a large banner in support. The match had started and had been dreadfully dull-although all Quidditch matches were dreadfully dull to Hermione. It was slightly less boring than normal though, Hermione conceded. It was almost kind of fun to cheer for Slytherin and watch Emiline hit speeding balls at Potter for him to try and avoid. 

At one point when Terrence Higgs and Potter were racing for a snitch over by the Quidditch Goal Posts, Marcus Flint blocked Potter, which sent him into a tailspin. A couple moments later, Marcus Flint was hit in the face by a bludger. Hermione winced. 

“That had to hurt,” she whispered to Daphne. Daphne didn’t answer. Hermione turned to see Daphne staring at Potter… and his broom appeared to be trying to buck him off. Hermione hit Draco on the back of his head. “Knock it off, we want Slytherin to win cleanly without cheating.”

“Ow! What was that for?” Hermione turned to him, and back to Potter, who was still struggling to hold onto his broom.

“Sorry, thought it was you trying to knock Potter off of his broom.”

“Someone’s trying to knock Potter off of his broom?” Draco turned to see the Boy-Who-Lived holding onto a broom for dear life. 

“Oh no,” Pansy deadpanned. “What a shame.”

Theo snorted, “It’s karma, that’s what it is. Welp, luckily enough, I brought my Funeral Robes to Hogwarts just in case. It’s nice that I’ll get some use out of them.”

“You look quite fetching in them,” Daphne smiled.

Theo blushed, before turning his attention back to the match. “Oh, and good for Flint, he’s put the Quaffle through the Gryffindor goalposts five times now, ‘cause everyone’s too bothered with Potter.” 

Then- _“unfortunately”_ Draco had said-Potter climbed his way back up onto the broom. Before Hermione could process _that_ , he was coughing up the snitch and waving it around wildly, yelling “I’ve got the snitch! I’ve got the snitch!” like an idiot. 

Flint was howling “He didn’t catch it, he nearly swallowed it,” which was an excellent point in Hermione’s opinion, but Gryffindor still won. And of course, Draco was sulking until the next morning at breakfast.

As he poked at his eggs, Hermione tried to think of a way to cheer him up. Suddenly, she got an idea. “You know,” she said mischievously, “Potter looked like one of those big frogs in the rainforest catching the snitch in his mouth.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched. Daphne caught on. “I think I can do a rather good impression. Hermione, watch me and tell me how good of an impression I can do.” She then proceeded to open her mouth as wide as she could and open and shut it repeatedly, ribbiting for good effect. Theo took a grape and pelted it at Daphne, who caught it with her mouth. She swallowed it and quickly grabbed another grape, which she pretended to take from her mouth and held it up. “I’ve got the snitch! I’ve got the snitch!”

The group of Slytherins burst into laughter and Draco’s mood cracked.

“Daphne,” Hermione said, “I dare say that was absolutely perfect.”

* * *

About halfway through the week, Hermione had received a letter from her father, telling her that he would be coming to take her to the trial of Sirius Black that Friday. He had offered to take Daphne as well, but Daphne had immediately decided she wasn’t going. 

“It’s going to be so _boring_. Plus, I’m not the Heir of House Greengrass, you are. So that means I don’t have to do any of the boring heir stuff you do.”

Hermione, on the other hand, was excited. She had never witnessed a trial before and was terribly curious to what one would actually be like. When the day of the trial came, Hermione was up bright and early. She had met Draco in the common room and had practically skipped over to Professor Snape’s office. They floo’d into the Ministry, where Uncle Lucius and her father were waiting. Hermione ran to hug Hyperion. He laughed as she crashed into him, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve missed you too,” he chuckled. “Now what’s this I’ve heard from Uncle Lucius about a troll and the Potter and Weasley boy giving you trouble?” 

Hermione went red, “I’m sure he told you everything anyways.”

“And why did this take so long for me to find out about?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“I was going to tell you over winter hols, but well…” she trailed off.

“Just tell me sooner next time, okay?” Hyperion offered Hermione a smile as she turned red and mumbled that she would. She took his arm, and they, along with the Malfoy men, walked through the halls of the Ministry. It was a rather formidable sight, and they were the topic of whispered conversations. The trial of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had been kept under tight wraps-only the Aurors who were on the case knew about it. The press had received an invitation for ‘an important matter’.

The Greengrass and the Malfoy seats were next to each other, as when the Wizengameot was formed back in the 1500s, the Greengrasses and Malfoys were relatively closely related at the time. Although that was no longer the case, the seating arrangement didn't really change around. If a new seat was added for someone who had gotten an Order of Merlin, the seating expanded outwards. Some new Houses even got added, although that wasn’t very often. It was reserved for established Wizarding families that emigrated from the continent or if someone who was not a part of a House with any political power or seat, if they could trace back their ancestry for five generations of witches and wizards, they could obtain a seat. Another opportunity, which was designed for Muggleborns and Half-Bloods in particular is if they did something rather noteworthy. It had to be more than just what you would do to get an Order of Merlin, which only held for as long as the person was alive. For example, the Honeyduke family had obtained a seat, awarded due to the success of their business, and the Evans family was posthumously given a seat in honor of Lily Evans, although it was only allowed to be held by the next muggleborn of the Evans line, who would also be able to start House Evans in honor of Lily Potter’s great sacrifice. So as the years went on, the Wizengameot chambers expanded, going higher and higher, and was at seven rows before it was separated from the viewing gallery. It was a great honor to be on the first level, and that was where the Greengrass and Malfoy seats were. 

As they sat in the chairs, waiting for the trial to begin, Hermione filled Hyperion in on the school year. “So I’m really really good at Transfiguration, and I really do like it a lot. Professor McGonagall is nice, although she is Head of Gryffindor so it’s a little harder to get points in there. But she does give points to me because my transfigurations are always excellent, and I always get them on the first time.”

Hyperion raised a brow. “That’s very impressive Hermione.”

“I was really worried something was wrong with me at first, but I went to Professor Snape and he told me that it’s either because I’ve got a strong magical core or I was gifted by Lady Magic.”

Hyperion laughed, “And I’m sure you didn’t worry yourself sick in the meantime. And I’d be willing to bet that everyone told you to calm down and not make a fuss over it, but until Professor Snape told you, you were convinced it was your doom?”

Draco cut in, “You have no idea how many times we all told her that it was a good thing at dinner that night.”

Hermione flushed, “Well I just wanted to be sure. Anyways, I like the idea of either of them, but I don’t know what would make Lady Magic choose me, so it’s probably just got to do with my core. You and Mum have always had strong Magical Cores anyways.”

“And how is Daphne doing?”

“Oh gods,” Hermione groaned, “I was told to give you a message by her. She said to tell you that quote Professor Binns is a disgrace to the subject of History of Magic. Please find a way to get a new teacher. Or I will kill myself so I can take over the class as a ghost, if being a ghost is a requirement, because Merlin knows that he’s absolute shite at it.”

“With those exact words too,” said Draco, “She’s not going to stop until Binns is out. I mean it’s not like anyone would complain, he’s the worst teacher of the lot by far.”

“And you know how she is about History,” added Hermione.

“The school brooms are absolutely awful,” Draco complained, “One of them malfunctioned on Neville Longbottom and he shot up twenty feet into the sky before falling and breaking his wrist. I think Daphne wants you guys to get into contact with Madame Longbottom to try and get Dumbledore on neglect-‘cos anyone with eyes could see those brooms shouldn’t be ridden on anymore-and tell him you won’t press charges if he cans Binns.”

“How’s Mum and Astoria?” Hermione asked.

“They’re doing well. Your mum and Aunt Cissa have been going to Paris or Milan almost weekly because they’ve got very little to do without you all in the house. Astoria usually goes along with them as well and will come back with loads and loads of new clothing. She’s finished learning German and is trying to learn Italian as fast as she possibly can. She’ll frequently break out into dramatic rants in Italian at the dinner table just to prove that she can, and partially to pretend she’s in some tragic opera or something of the like,” he chuckled.

“That sounds like ‘Stori,” she paused, “When’s this thing supposed to start anyways?”

As if on cue, Dumbledore, who was the Chief Warlock, sat down in his chair. A hush fell over the chamber. The press seats were all filled, although the viewing seats were sparsely populated. As far as most knew, this was a normal day. 

“The Wizengamot is set to give a trial today for a man imprisoned shortly after Voldemort’s demise,” began Dumbledore. Everyone flinched at the word ‘Voldemort.’ Hermione rolled her eyes at Dumbledore, the name certainly made her uncomfortable and flinch, but there was no reason for him to use it. Too many people had trauma associated with that name, and just dragging it up because he could instead of saying You-Know-Who like everyone else did always rubbed Hermione the wrong way. “He was assumed to be a Death Eater, but never received a trial. Aurors, please bring in Sirius Black.” And with that, everyone started talking. Dumbledore used his wand to create two banging noises in the air, and everyone quieted. 

A pair of Aurors brought in a heavily chained Sirius Black. His hair was wild and dark and messy-it probably hadn’t seen a comb in eleven years though. His skin was pale, just like Aunt Cissa’s, but the dirt and grime that was caked into him made it seem all the much lighter by contrast. But what stood at the most were his eyes. They were dark, and they darted place to place, haunted by ghosts that were no longer there. Each movement seemed to be an effort for him, as the chains rattled with each step. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles were impossibly small, but they still fit him. Hermione thought that if he were to take off his shirt, she’d be able to easily count his ribs from where she was sitting. A pang of sympathy ran through her. Even if he did betray the Potters, did anybody deserve to be treated like this? Although there was no madness in the Greengrass family, Hermione could easily imagine herself going insane in the conditions of Azkaban if _this_ was what they produced. And Sirius Black was from a family known for madness. Was he even still sane?

The man sat down in the seat, facing Dumbledore. He was administered Veritaserum.

Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE, straightened her papers. “What is your name?”

“Sirius Orion Black.” Black’s voice came out, rough and edged, raw and raspy from lack of use.

“When is your date of birth?”

“November 3rd, 1959.”

“Were you a Death Eater, or did you serve, help, or aid You-Know-Who in any way, willingly or not?”

“No.” Murmurs broke out again, before Dumbledore’s wand made a noise, cueing them to quiet. 

“Were you the Secret Keeper for the Potters?”  
“No.”

“Can you walk us through the events leading up to and of the night of October 31st, 1981?”

Sirius Black took in a rattling breath. “It all began when Voldemor-” he was cut off by gasps, “Oh fine, You-Know-Who, started hunting down Lily and James. They were encouraged to go into hiding by Dumbledore, as were Alice and Frank Longbottom. He was after them for whatever reason, but we never really found out what it was. They wanted me to be the Secret Keeper, because I’d die before betraying them. And I would’ve. But _I_ told them to do Peter. I said I would be too obvious.” He swallowed. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that.

“That night, I arrived on my motorbike, and the half of the upstairs was all blown up. Lily had spent ages decorating it, they had been in hiding for forever, so it was all she had to do. She was so proud of it. She had taken all these pictures of Harry and her and James, and even some of us, and had them all over. It was grins, wall to wall.” Sirius wore a pained smile. 

“I parked the motorbike right on the curb and I ran into the house. James was on the floor, right by the door. He was lying there, at an odd angle, and his glasses were broken. I broke down right there on the spot, but then I heard someone crying and realized it was Harry, so I raced up the stairs. I ran into the cottage and up the stairs and I’ll never forget the way that hallway looked. The pictures were burnt and melting, and all ruined. It would’ve killed Lily to see it like that,” he choked out, “Lily was right by Harry’s crib, and her body was all twisted in the wrong way. Her hair was all splayed out over the floor and she was staring up at the ceiling. She always had the most expressive eyes, you know, James used to go on and on about it in school when she wouldn’t give him the time of day.” His laugh got caught in his throat.

“But her eyes were all empty. They were absolutely dead. And then there was Harry, standing up in his crib and crying. So I grabbed him and held him and started rocking him. He kept on calling out for James and Lily and it broke my heart.

“Hagrid showed up about ten minutes later. He said that he’d been sent by Dumbledore to take Harry somewhere safe. I let him go, I was going to get him later so I could take care of him. Lily and James had put me next in line to take care of him if something happened. Me and the Longbottoms were supposed to take care of him together, Alice was his Godmother, and Harry was only a day younger than Neville. But first, I was going to go out and take care of Peter. I was going to bring him into the Ministry so he could rot in Azkaban for killing James and Lily. It was early the next morning when I found him, and then he started yelling at _me,_ saying _I_ was the one who betrayed Lily and James. Then he pulled out his wand and cut off his finger, before blowing up the street. The only reason I survived was because I managed to put up a shield in time. Pettigrew transformed into a rat and scurried away in the gutter. At that point, I had been awake for thirty-six hours and I was exhausted. When the Aurors showed up to arrest me, Crouch told me that I was under arrest for betraying Lily and James Potter to Voldemort. It finally sunk in that they were gone. I was just completely destroyed at that point, that point I just started laughing and crying. It didn’t feel real. 

Sirius Black broke down, tears tracking down his cheeks. Hermione reached for her face, to realize her cheek was also wet with tears. 

Crouch, from the other side of the room, was scowling before he burst out, “You were saying, and I quote, ‘I killed them!’ when we arrested you! You confessed!”

Sirius shook his head fiercely, “I was saying that it was _my_ fault that they were dead, that I killed them. I was the one who suggested Peter. I never would’ve imagined he was a Death Eater. I would’ve died for them a hundred times over and still do it again! If I had just been the Secret Keeper, they might have still been alive today. Maybe I would be dead, but it would be worth it… they would still be alive.”

Bones glared at Crouch for speaking out of turn. “I now open the floor to anybody who may have questions. Please be sure to _wait for your time_ to ask a question.”

For a moment, there was silence. Uncle Lucius cleared his throat. “Black, you were an Auror at the time. Why did you not go through the proper channels?”

“I couldn’t think of that during the time,” Sirius Black said, through grit teeth, “My best friend and his wife had been killed by one of our closest friends. I wasn’t going to wait so Pettigrew could escape.”

Hermione whispered into her father's ear, “I have a question.” He gestured for her to speak. Hermione’s eyes widened. “Now? In front of everyone? Am I allowed?” At his nod, she took in a breath. “Mr. Black?” Everyone’s eyes turned towards her, as did the eyes of the man she was watching. He seemed guarded. Hermione’s stomach rolled. “Were there any traces of You-Know-Who’s remains at the Potter’s home? A wand, or a body that might’ve been burned before Aurors arrived?”

Sirius Black seemed taken aback by the question, but answered immediately, as compelled by the Veritaserum. “I wasn’t really looking for anything, so I might’ve missed his wand or something, but I didn’t see a body or clothing, no.”

More people started asking questions, but Hermione wasn’t paying attention. Was You-Know-Who not dead? But that was impossible, he would’ve been killed by Lily Potter’s protection ritual when he tried to _Avada_ Harry Potter. Unless there was something he had tying him to the mortal plane? Hermione’s mind raced until her father nudged her, pulling her back from her thoughts. 

“Please raise your wand if you believe Sirius Black guilty of betraying the Potters to Voldemort.” Not a single person’s wand was lit. “Raise your wand if you believe Sirius Black to be innocent of betraying the Potters to Voldemort.” The Wizengamot Chamber lit up.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew’s trial was full of snivelling cowardice. He also, under Veritaserum, admitted to several other disgusting crimes-from rape to torture and killing muggles and wizards alike. Hyperion had almost made Hermione leave halfway through, but she had convinced him otherwise by saying that she would have to learn how to deal with graphic descriptions of crimes in some time or another. Even though it made her stomach twist and her heart clench at every single word Pettigrew had said. 

When it was over, Hyperion and Lucius had led Hermione and Draco to the room where Sirius Black was currently waiting. Aunt Cissa, who had been watching in the viewing gallery, was sitting outside the door on a plush chair she had transfigured from a plant. When they were there, the Auror stationed outside nodded at them and opened the door, walking in first. Hermione assumed it was a safety precaution.

“Why are you in here?” protested the voice of Sirius Black. “I’m free!” He sighed when the Auror stayed silent. Aunt Cissa was the first to walk through the door. 

As bad as Sirius Black had looked far away, he looked worse up front. He was free, he should’ve been happy. But Hermione thought that he just looked tired.

“Oh, Sirius,” Narcissa cried, before rushing to give him a hug. He tensed up as she threw her arms around him, but slowly relaxed.

“Hi, Cissy. Long time, no see,” he grinned, though it seemed strange on his worn face.

“Dammit, Sirius, why’d you have to be the Gryffindor Black! Or at the very least, not have been half as stupidly reckless as your average Gryffindor?” she whacked him on the back of the head. “Come on, now, Siri!”

Sirius’s throat made a rocky sound and Hermione realized that it was a chuckle. He looked up to see Lucius and Hyperion standing in the doorway, and narrowed his eyes. “Lucius.”

“Sirius,” Uncle Lucius said, cordially.

“What the hell are you doing here, you Death-”

Narcissa wandlessly silenced Sirius, before glaring at him. “You better not start that, Sirius. He is my husband and I love him. Lucius is the reason you even got a trial to begin with. Now you’re going to make nice and say hello.” She cancelled the spell.

“Make nice with two Death Eaters?”

Hyperion rolled his eyes before pulling up his left sleeve. “No mark. I was Neutral, although I suppose _some_ people think otherwise.”

Sirius nodded warily and turned back to Lucius.

“We will discuss this _later_ , Black, but you are going to meet my son who is your heir, and the girl who captured Pettigrew.”

Sirius’s eyes turned to her for the first time. “You got Pettigrew?”

Hermione blushed, “Yeah I guess…”

She was caught off guard when he charged at her, picking her up and hugging her, as he cried. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Hermione tentatively hugged him back, which made him cry even more. She realized that he probably hadn’t had physical contact with anybody in the past eleven years, so she tightened her arms around him. When he put her back down, she was crying. They both wiped away their tears, and Sirius turned to Draco. “So I’m the crazy Black Cissy’s probably told you about?”

“No,” said Draco, “That’s Aunt Bella. You were the stupid Black that Mother talked about.”

Sirius burst into laughter. “I like you. You’re worthy to be my heir.” he declared.

“Well,” said Aunt Cissa, “The children probably should get back to Hogwarts. I know you haven’t even started on your Herbology essay, young man,” she crossed her arms.

Draco moaned, “Ugh, Mia, you snitch!”

“I told you to do it a week ago. You said you’d have it done by Wednesday, and to bully you into doing it if it wasn’t done by then. You never clarified I couldn’t use your mother as reinforcements,” Hermione sniffed. 

“What houses are you two in?” asked Sirius curiously.

“Slytherin,” they said together. 

Narcissa slapped the back of Sirius’ head before he could say anything. “There’s nothing wrong with that, so you better not make a comment about it. They’ve had _enough_ to deal with from Gryffindors, which you will be hearing about and helping out with,” she said firmly.

“You know, the Sorting Hat said I could go into any house I wanted,” said Hermione, “But Daphne was already in Slytherin so that’s where I wanted to go. Plus so was Emiline, and I knew that Draco and Pansy were automatic Slytherins, and Theo would follow wherever Daphne went. I didn’t want to go into Hufflepuff, even though I didn’t want Hannah to be alone, ‘cause I didn’t really think I was loyal enough to go there.”

“You’re loyal,” frowned Draco.

“Yeah, but Puffs are loyal to everyone. You have to earn mine. Plus I’m a bit too revenge-happy to be a badger. I think they’d feel I was too mean.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re the nicest person in Slytherin!”

“Hufflepuffs and Slytherins don’t exactly compare in levels of niceness,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “There’s a reason why Hannah said she didn’t want to be involved in the planning of the revenge against Weasley. She’s content to watch it play out, but she’s too nice to actively plan it or do something.”

“I think that’s why Pansy’s attached to her at the hip,” Draco snorted, “She’s there to steamroll over anybody who looks at Hannah the wrong way.”

Then they were back at the floo room, and Hermione and Draco said their goodbyes to their parents and gave out hugs and kisses. After a moment of deliberation, Hermione hugged Sirius Black again. 

“Give Mum and Astoria my love,” Hermione said to her father, before stepping into the floo. “Hogwarts, Professor Snape’s Office!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the response! comments always are so encouraging and make me want to write more. I love all of you guys who comment or leave kudos, or even just read and enjoy snakes and sunflowers. <3


	10. Give You My Sunshine, Give You My Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What??? A surprise update on a Tuesday? What is this? 
> 
> Anyways, I've been writing a lot recently and I'm a couple chapters ahead of my five chapter cushion I leave between the chapter I post and the chapter I'm currently writing, so I decided I wanted to upload the next chapter a bit early. And don't worry-you'll still get your scheduled new chapter on Friday as well. 
> 
> This chapter shows why Hermione is in Slytherin, so I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also-I just wanted to add in a note for all of you who want Harry to be a little nicer and get his head out of his ass-I can tell you that that won't happen for a *long* while, even *if* it does. I know he's very stubborn, but without Hermione to deter him from things or to get him to try and think (like when she originally tells Harry that Snape can be trusted in the Sorcerer's Stone-although she did come to the same conclusion that he did, she still thought on it for a bit longer and tried to get Harry to think), so he's going to be both much more influenced by Ron Weasley and his world view, and in consequence, Dumbledore's as well. He won't be encouraged to stop and think as much as he was in the original series because he lacks Hermione. Anyways, without further ado, here's the chapter.

When the news broke the very next morning, Hermione and Draco were the center of attention the very next morning at the Slytherin table. Draco retold the events of both trials in dramatic fashion throughout the day, and Hermione would add in bits and pieces here and there. About halfway through the day, when Hermione was walking by herself to meet her friends out by Black Lake, she passed Potter, who looked melancholy.

Hermione thought for a second, before speaking up. “What’s got you all upset, Potter? Your godfather’s out of Azkaban.”

“Well I’m not sure I want him to be my godfather,” the boy mumbled.

“Why? That makes absolutely no sense. He was a Gryffindor, if that’s what you’re all worried about.”

Potter kicked a pebble on the ground, “Ron says he’s from an evil family.”

“The Blacks are a bit dark yeah,” Hermione conceded, “But are you really going to take Weasley’s word for it?”

Potter scowled, “Yeah, why not? They’re related to the Malfoys and a bunch of other Death Eater families.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed, “I’d be careful what I was saying if I were you, Potter. There are things about Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius that you don’t know about and it’s not your business to know.”

Potter looked confused. “You call them Aunt and Uncle but say you’re not related to Draco. Is he like adopted or something?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Dear Merlin, Potter, are you stupid? They’re my godparents. It’s no wonder you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw with that spectacular deductive reasoning you’ve got going on there.” And with that, she turned on her heel, leaving Potter behind to meet her friends for a picnic lunch on a sunny Saturday afternoon. 

* * *

It was halfway through November when it was decided that Cheddar would make his official debut to the other Houses as the official Slytherin House Pet. Draco volunteered to hold Cheddar part of the day because, as he put it, he would make Weasley blow his top the most. 

Hermione was going over to Gryffindor table to talk to Neville, Draco was using it as an excuse to antagonize Potter and Weasley, and Blaise came along, as he was in the habit of doing at that point, probably because it annoyed Draco to no ends. 

“Hey, Neville!” Hermione slid into the seat she would normally take when she’d visit Gryffindor table. As she fell into an easy rhythm of conversation with Neville, she kept her eye on Draco and Blaise, who were sitting on the side of her closer to Potter and Weasley. After a couple of minutes, Weasley was distracted from his food. 

“Malfoy! Zabini!”

“We’re just sitting here with Hermione while she talks with Neville,” Draco said offhandedly. 

“Fine,” Weasley grumbled. Professor McGonagall had reprimanded him a month into the school year over him fighting with Draco and Blaise everytime the Slytherins visited the table, and although it had taken a few more times-and threats within a few inches of his life-Weasley had finally conceded. It didn’t stop him from shooting glares at the Slytherins, although Hermione was sure he wanted to do much more than just glare. 

But he wasn’t going to do anything about it. That was until he saw Cheddar. 

“Malfoy!” he shouted, “You’ve got Scabbers!”

Draco and Neville looked up, and Hermione made a show of burying her face in her hands. 

“Weasley,” said Draco, “I don’t know what you’re on about, but this is Cheddar. He’s the new House Pet of Slytherin. One of our Prefects found him ages ago, and we’ve not really taken him out yet.”

Weasley scoffed, “Sure, that’s a likely story. That’s Scabbers right there! You stole him!”

Hermione sighed, “Weasley, why would we steal your pet rat? When would we have even done this?”

“How’m I supposed to know what dirty tricks you sneaky Slytherins come up with?”

Neville sighed, “Ron, knock it off. None of them stole Scabbers. Hermione, guys, can I walk you back to the Slytherin table, and we can eat there?”

“No!” Ron shouted, “That’s  _ my  _ rat that  _ they  _ stole!” 

Hermione drew out her wand, before anything could escalate. “I swear upon my magic that Cheddar is not the stolen rat Ron Weasley used to own. So mote may it be.” She cast a lumos, which lit up the tip of her wand. “There you go. Cheddar isn’t Scabbers.” She looked around the table. Everyone looked somewhere between impressed and horrified.

“Bu-but,” Ron sputtered.

Potter spoke up for the first time. “Did you fake it?”

Blaise scoffed, “You can’t fake swearing upon your magic, dumbass.”

“ _ Thank _ you, Blaise.”

“Yeah, well that  _ we  _ know of!” Weasley burst out, “It could be some Dark Spell you used that nobody good would use!”

“All this to steal a rat that I didn’t even know existed?” Hermione laughed, “Thanks Weasley, but I don’t think I have that kind of time. Plus it’s not like I’ve got any real reason to hate you to go out of my way to do something like this.” Hermione saw Neville tense up in the corner of her eye, and smirked internally. “Come on, Nev, I’m done.”

When she turned around, Weasley lunged at the group of Slytherins from across the table. Draco intercepted him, cutting him off from Hermione’s path, and it quickly turned into a fistfight. Potter joined in to help Weasley out, and so Blaise jumped in as well. Hermione was pulled away by Neville as the brawling worsened, blows landing on each person. Less than a minute after the fighting started, Professors McGonagall and Snape were right there, holding all the boys apart. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” shouted the Deputy Headmistress, her Scottish brogue thick in her anger. When the boys started to sputter out answers, she cut them off. “Miss Greengrass, Mister Longbottom, you were here when the fight occurred?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded briskly, “Severus, should we take this to my office, as it’s closer than yours?”

“Of course, Minerva. Mister Longbottom, Miss Greengrass, please come along to help shed some light on the situation as unbiased third parties.”

Weasley scoffed, “Unbiased? That’s a load of dragon-” he was cut off by a wave of Snape’s wand.

After one very tense, although thankfully quick, walk to Professor McGonagall’s office, Hermione found herself sitting in a chair. Neville was in the other chair, and Professors McGonagall and Snape sat on the other side of the desk. As the only seating left was one couch, the remaining two Slytherins and Gryffindors were squeezed in, exchanging glares. 

“Miss Greengrass, can you explain what led up to the events of the fight?” Snape asked.

Hermione widened her eyes to make herself look as innocent as possible. Professor McGonagall seemed to buy into it and Professor Snape was hiding a knowing smirk. This was a face she, Daphne and Draco had used often to get out of trouble. 

“Well, I was over at the Gryffindor table, because sometimes I like to stop by there to talk with Neville. Neville always has really interesting things to say about Herbology and plants. Draco and Blaise will come over with me, ‘cause they don’t want to let Weasley say anything about me. I mean he’s said some pretty mean things, which hurt I guess, so I appreciate what the boys are doing, but honestly I don’t want to have any bad blood between Weasley and I,” she started fiddling with her hair, “Well, anyways, Draco and Blaise were sitting with me and Draco brought the Slytherin House Pet, Cheddar, who Carrine, she’s a fifth year prefect, found a while back in a courtyard. He was a perfectly nice rat and he seemed really tame, so we cleaned him up and took him to Professor Snape to get him registered in the Ministry. We haven’t taken him out of the Common Room yet because we wanted to make sure he was used to all of us before we started introducing him to new people. Anyways, Weasley thought that it was his pet rat, and started getting into an argument with us. I wanted it to stop, so I swore a magical oath that Cheddar wasn’t Ron Weasley’s stolen pet rat.”

Professor McGonagall gasped, “My dear, you shouldn’t swear your magic upon something so trivial!”

Hermione started thinking of how Sirius Black had looked so haunted and lonely at his trial to get her tear ducts working. “I know, but I just wanted the fighting to stop! And my magic still works, so I’m fine, I just won’t do that again.” She wiped away a leaking tear. “And we didn’t steal his rat! If it was his, it would’ve registered as such when it got registered at the Ministry.”

“Scabbers wasn’t registered! We found him in our lawn!” Weasley burst out, “Who registers their pets at the ministry?”

Professor McGonagall sighed, “For your parent’s sake, I’m going to pretend that you didn't say that. Whenever you adopt a pet, of any kind, you have to get it registered at the Ministry, if it was not bought at a Pet Store. If not, there is a fine of at least a hundred galleons, varying by how dangerous said unregistered pet is.”

Weasley paled. “A hundred galleons?”

The Scotswoman nodded. “Miss Greengrass, please continue.”

Hermione had gotten her tears working up steadily. “I didn’t even know he  _ had  _ a pet rat before today, so why would any of us steal it? I told him that before I turned around and next thing I knew, Draco was blocking him from almost tackling me. I don’t hate him! Sure, he can say really mean things to me, but he hasn’t done or said anything that makes me  _ hate  _ him!”

Neville tensed again.

“Mr. Longbottom, do you have something to say?” Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

Neville shook his head shakily, but Draco spoke up. “Neville, if you’re not going to tell her, I will.”

“Tell me what?” Hermione asked.

“Well, Ron was the reason you and Hannah were in the bathroom,” said Neville quietly.

“Yeah,” said Hermione, “But I mean as long as he felt bad about it! It’s not like he said that he wished that the troll had killed us!” Inwardly she smirked. Although she did feel bad that she was manipulating Neville in this way, Ron deserved what he got. She decided she’d make it up to Neville with getting him a Wiggentree seed for Christmas, a particularly rare plant he’d often talked about wanting to have but being unable to find. Hermione counted to three before looking around at the pale faces of Neville, Potter, Weasley and Draco. “He didn’t...right?” she asked. When nobody answered she allowed her tears to turn into sobs. 

“Mr. Weasley?” Professor McGonagall’s voice was cold.

“I didn’t say that!” Hermione was almost impressed. He was lying to a  _ furious  _ McGonagall and Snape. That took guts. Or the distinct lack of a brain.

Neville completely emotionally wrought. “Yes, Ron, you did,” Neville mumbled. 

Hermione burst into another wave of sobs. “Mr. Potter?” Snape asked.

Now this had Hermione intrigued. Would Potter save his own skin or lie? “Yeah, you did, Ron,” Potter said sheepishly. Interesting. 

“So what if I did?” Weasley’s temper turned on a flash, “She should’ve died! One less evil snake in the world, and if Abbott hung out with them anyways, she might as well’ve been a Slytherin too!”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor McGonagall admonished, and Hermione buried her head in her arms on top of the desk. “There there, Miss Greengrass.” She looked up through tearful eyes to see Professor McGonagall wrapping her arms around her. “Mr. Longbottom, do you have anything to add to Miss Greengrass’s story in the events leading up to the fight?” The boy shook his head. “Severus, can you please handle the rest of this? I’m going to find Miss Greengrass’s sister and have her take them take the day off of school so Hermione can emotionally recover and have her sister to help her so she isn’t alone.”

Weasley started arguing loudly before he was silenced by a spell, courtesy of Professor Snape. 

“Professor, I’m not sure if-” Hermione began to protest weakly.

“Nonsense. You’re an incredibly bright girl, you can take the day off.” The Professor stood up, and led Hermione out the door. When they were outside of her office, Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to say something. Finally, she gave in. “Miss Greengrass, you said that Mr. Weasley has said some rather mean things about you before?”

Hermione nodded, “Well there’s him calling me evil and slimy because I’m in Slytherin, but that doesn’t bother me as much as the others. The worst one was back when he asked Draco which one of his ‘slag cousins’-” Hermione whispered the word slag-“he was betrothed to-Daphne or me.” Hermione wiped away a tear. “We’re not even related for ten generations! And I’m n-Daphne’s n-neither of us are  _ what he said _ , Professor!” She looked up at McGonagall with wide, earnest eyes. 

“I know, my dear,” she said, trying to comfort Hermione. 

They arrived at the Charms classroom, where Professor McGonagall went in and came out with Daphne in tow, quietly explaining to her the situation as they walked to the Slytherin common room. Daphne ambushed Hermione with a hug before they reached the common room. When they reached the common room, it was completely empty when they stepped in. When the wall closed behind them, Hermione wiped away the tears, smirking. She and Daphne had learned how to cry on cue as a backup for just about anything ages ago. It did tend to come in use.

“And Draco said I wouldn’t be able to get you out of class for the day as well. He owes me ten galleons!” 

* * *

On a cold, December morning, Hermione woke up to the sound of whispers and bumping noises. She sleepily opened her eyes to be greeted by the faces of her friends beaming down at her.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” they shouted and Hermione started laughing sleepily.

“Did you really have to do this this early?” she asked.

Pansy bounded over from Daphne’s bed. “Of course we did. Daphne’s an early riser so we had to catch her too.”

Hermione glared at her sister, who was also struggling to wake up, although without heat. “This is all your fault.” Daphne stuck her tongue out. 

After a frenzy of getting ready, the group of first year Slytherins made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. They were the first ones there, except for Hannah, who was sitting at the Slytherin table. Also sitting at the Slytherin table was a mountain of gifts waiting in front of where Daphne and Hermione normally sat. Hermione flushed and glared at her friends. “You didn’t need to do all this!” she said as she sat down. 

Pansy laughed, “Yeah well, we did. So shut up and open your presents!”

Hermione and Daphne took turns opening their gifts one by one, and by the time that they were finished, the Great Hall was buzzing with the activity of a typical Thursday morning. Hermione had gotten various rare books from her friends, a small plant from Neville, a basket of her favorite candies from Blaise, and some family jewelry from her parents. But the gift Hermione loved the most was from Draco, a beautiful dark green cloak made of velvet. When she had opened the box, she threw her arms around Draco. “It’s absolutely gorgeous, Drake.” 

Daphne had gotten various gifts as well, but what had her over the moon was her first courtship gift from Theo: a decorative golden hair comb adorned with pearls. She had kissed Theo full on the lips in front of everybody, to the sound of whistles and clapping from the table. She then had shyly asked Theo to put it in her hair for her, both blushing furiously.

It was a Thursday, so that meant that they only really had classes during the morning. The downside of that was that two of the three classes they did have were with- _ ugh _ -Gryffindor. But Hermione was determined to not let that get her down. She was not about to let Weasley and Potter ruin her day. 

Professor Quirrell’s lesson was on the Knockback Jinx, and when they paired up to practice, Blaise, Hermione and Draco took turns hitting each other-Blaise being in their group because there were an odd number of students in that class. 

When Draco got knocked onto his behind and cursed, Hermione realized that Quirrell hadn’t put up Cushioning Spells. She quietly shared the revelation with Draco and Blaise. “I probably should put some up around the room,” she said.

Blaise shook his head, smirking. “No, do it just around the Slytherins.”

Draco grinned, “I like how you’re thinking, Zabini. Hermione, it’s your birthday, so you can be the one to hit them if you want.”

Hermione shook her head, but she was laughing. “I wouldn’t take that away from you two. We can stand in a triangle, and you boys can aim at Potter and Weasley, just make sure it doesn’t look like you were trying to get them, in case Professor Quirrell is watching.”

A few minutes later saw two angry Gryffindors rubbing their backsides and groaning after being knocked into the floor. Although Potter had landed the jinx on Weasley already, the same couldn’t be said the other way around, and the jinx from Potter wasn’t strong enough to make Weasley fall over, so they hadn’t really discovered the lack of cushioning charms. 

Hermione thought it was safe to say that the two Gryffindors had finally learned of the distinct lack of said charms, as Weasley let out a long thread of curses.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Zabini asked, smirking.

Potions went about just as well. They were brewing a Calming Draught, which was one of Hermione’s favorite easy potions to brew. She and Draco were able to knock one out in almost record time and spent the rest of class working on their Charms Homework together and enchanting quills to do little dances on their desk. The true highlight of the period, though, was when Professor Snape took one look at Potter and Weasley’s potion and said, “Your Calming Draught resembles sludge from a swamp and would strike fear into the heart of any pour soul who was told that this was something they would have to drink. In fact, this would be excellent at counteracting a Calming Draught, but I suppose any person unlucky enough to have to take any potion either of you ever brewed would be just as effective at counteracting a Calming Draught.” He vanished the contents of the cauldron, and gave them a ‘Dreadful’ for the day. 

Herbology was with the Ravenclaws, so it was a fairly quiet class, so Hermione and Pansy decorated their already completed notes with drawings of ivy creeping across the parchment, keeping themselves busy while Professor Sprout lectured about Bouncing Bulbs. As they headed out of the greenhouses, Blaise pulled out a deck of Exploding Snap. So they all spent the rest of the afternoon in one of the courtyards, playing Exploding Snap, where Theo, like usual, absolutely decimated everyone else. Hannah joined in the game about thirty minutes in, after finding them after History of Magic. The game ended with Draco slightly singing his eyebrows, Hannah sucking on a finger for a small burn, and Theo wearing a smug grin after defending his title as reigning Exploding Snap champion. 

At dinner, Hannah and Pansy left early, each wearing suspiciously large grins, and Draco and Theo ate as slowly as they could. Hermione and Daphne exchanged glances. “What’s Pansy and Hannah setting up that you guys are stalling for time for?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“You weren’t supposed to catch on!” Draco complained.

Daphne laughed, “You guys aren’t very subtle. Plus would’ve left half an hour ago if it was a normal night. I don’t think sloths eat this slowly!”

“Oh come on!” Theo said, “We always all eat pretty fast, but most of the other tables are still full.”

“How much longer are you supposed to be stalling for?” Hermione asked. 

Draco checked his watch. “They said they should be done by now.”

As they walked towards the Slytherin common rooms, Daphne asked slyly, “So are you going to give us a hint?”

“We actually don’t know anything,” Theo said, “They just said it was a girls-only night. We were just told to do our parts by stalling you long enough for them to do whatever they needed to do.”

Hermione and Daphne walked into their dorm room, and saw banners, streamers and balloons all across the room. Pansy and Hannah sat on Pansy’s bed, with twin smiles. Hannah was allowed in the dorms as she had been voted to be able to the second day of school. 

Pansy pulled a radio out from behind her back and tapped it with her wand. Suddenly, The Weird Sister’s new song started blaring out. Daphne squealed and ran to her dresser, grabbing a hairbrush and started singing along loudly. “ _ Move your body like a hairy troll _ !” 

Pansy and Hannah joined in, and motioned for Hermione to follow. She rolled her eyes before also grabbing a hairbrush and singing along to the nonsensical lyrics, when Daphne pulled her up onto her bed, and they started dancing about, jumping bed to bed. 

That night, Hermione fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, smiling. She truly had the best friends in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted what I have planned as everyone's birthdays in this fic on my tumblr, so if you want to go and check it out-direct link here:
> 
> https://allysficpics.tumblr.com/post/633803223043588097/snakes-and-sunflowers-birthdays


	11. Watch My Shattered Edges Glisten

Winter holidays rolled around and before Hermione knew it, she was on the Hogwarts Express, yet again, this time heading back to London. This ride, though, Blaise was in the compartment-squished into the overcrowded room meant for six. They laughed and listened along to the radio, singing along to the Yule songs, and solidifying their holiday plans.

When the train rolled into the station, Hermione grinned ear to ear at the sight of her parents and sister, and levitated her trunk down from the overhead compartment, and was grabbed by the arm and as Daphne practically ran off the train. Before they left, Hermione pinched her sister.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Mum and Dad will be mad if we’ve forgotten how to use our masks in six months. Plus you almost forgot Theo!”

They turned around to see Theo, who was racing towards them, trunk in tow. “Ah, yes, me,” he said, grinning wryly. When Daphne smiled sheepishly, he waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, you haven’t seen them in a while. You miss them.”

“It wouldn’t have been so long if you had decided to come to the trial with me,” Hermione nudged Daphne with her elbow.

Daphne tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I wasn’t about to sit through stupid politics. I don’t ever think I’d sit through politics and governing and the Wizengamot to see Merlin back from the grave.”

Theo laughed, “And that’s why Hermione’s set to inherit all that instead of you.”

“I was also born a couple minutes before she was,” Hermione said sardonically, “I think that might have something to do with it as well.”

Daphne laughed. “Thank Merlin you were. I would be utterly bored to death by all of that. Now are we going to get off this train or not?” With that, she descended the stairs onto the platform. Hermione shared a smile with Theo before following her sister.

“Mother, Father” she nodded, “Astoria.”

“Hermione, Daphne, Theodore,” Hyperion said, “Come, let’s return to the Manor.”

The moment they stepped through the Floo, Hermione was engulfed in a hug from her mother, pulling her and Daphne into her arms. 

“Mu-um!” Astoria’s voice rang out as she stomped her foot, “ _ I  _ wanted to hug them first!”

When Selene stepped aside and moved towards Theo to start fussing over him, Astoria flew into her sisters like a Bludger, causing each of them to call out “Astoria!”

When they finally pried Astoria away from them, Daphne and Hermione turned towards their father and ran into his waiting arms, peppering his cheeks in kisses. 

A few moments later, when they were all situated in the family sitting room, Astoria bounced onto the couch, sinking into the pillows before popping out like a gopher. “So?” she said impatiently, “Are you guys going to tell me what you did?” she looked pointedly at Theo, crossing her arms and trying to look menacing, “And Theo, you better tell me if they leave anything out.

Theo gulped, pretending to be intimidated, “Yes ma’am.”

Daphne dissolved into a fit of giggles, “Okay ‘Stori, we’ll tell you everything.” 

The three students spent the next few hours going over their first semester in great detail, much to Astoria’s delight. Astoria was a rather attentive listener, reacting at the right times. Although not quite as vocal about it, Selene and Hyperion were deeply engrossed in their story as well. When Daphne and Theo started talking about Ron Weasley’s torment of Hermione, the Greengrasses’ faces grew steadily darker. By the end, Selene was holding her teacup rather tightly, her face contorted into a strange extreme level of calmness. Hyperion, who had already heard pieces of the story, was in a similar stony calm to his wife. Astoria on the other hand, was red in the face and openly glaring. 

“Just  _ who _ does he  _ think  _ he  _ is _ ?” Astoria yelled, as the pillows around her burst into bits of feathers. Although the sight that her accidental magic left-a glaring blonde girl barely four feet tall crossing her arms on a velvet couch, buried in feathers-would be rather funny in any other circumstance, the anger in the room was so palpable that none of the three students dared laugh. Hermione looked rather embarrassed-she wanted to let everybody forget about all of this and move on, after all, they had already gotten their revenge on Weasley, which they had mentioned in the story.

Selene suddenly called out, “Mippie!” When the elf popped into the room, she continued. “Please go to Malfoy Manor and ask for them to Floo or Apparate over immediately.”

Hermione spun a lock of her hair in her fingers, anxiously awaiting the Malfoys. This was a complete mess-they had gone far enough already, hadn’t they?

When Lucius Malfoy came storming through the doors, followed by a clearly angry Narcissa and Draco, wearing a blank face. 

“I’m willing to wager that your children and Theo filled you in on the  _ events _ of this semester regarding a particular Weasley?” Lucius said hotly. 

“You gave us some of the basics the night you visited Hogwarts,” Selene said brittily, “Did you happen to leave anything out?”  
“No, we were told some of the main points. We were unaware of the rest until Draco decided to fill us in.” Narcissa sat down rigidly on a chair. “How about we start the story over again with just the part regarding _any_ of the Weasleys and what they’ve said to any of you, but especially towards Hermione.”  
Theo, Daphne and Draco nodded stonily, but Hermione desperately shook her head. “No! No, it’s okay. We handled it, it doesn’t matter anymore!”

It was Draco’s turn to burst. “Bullshit, Mia. I don’t know why you keep on trying to do this, but it needs to stop.”

Hermione flushed and twisted her hair harder. “I just don’t want to draw more people in and have to do all these things for me.”

“We  _ want  _ to, Hermione,” Draco returned.

“But what if it gets you all in trouble?”  
Draco snorted, “We won’t and even if we did, it’d be worth it.”

“But what if why go to all this trouble?”

“Because we  _ care  _ about you!”

“But what if-”

“Hermione!” Draco cut her off. “What he said really hurt you, don’t try to deny that! I know he’s made you cry at least once a week! What are you so stubborn about?”

Hermione tugged down hard on her hair. “But what if what he said about me is true?” she said quietly, as tears started to leak from her eyes. “What if I _am_ evil?”  
Daphne hugged Hermione fiercely from the side. “Is this about the magic thing?”

She nodded tearfully. “The only other person who had magic come so easily was You-Know-Who. What if I’m like him? What if I become the next him?” The leaking dam burst. “I don’t  _ want  _ to! I don’t want to hurt anybody but  _ what if I do?  _ What if retaliating further against Weasley changes me and makes me want to hurt people for no reason?  _ What if I’m evil like You-Know-Who?” _

She was swept up into Selene’s arms and cradled against her chest. “Oh my sweet girl,” she murmured into her hair, “My sweet little Hermione. You are _nothing_ like You-Know-Who. Do you know how I felt when Professor Snape told me of your special little ability?”  
“Frightened? Ashamed?” Hermione cried into her mother’s chest.

“No, my Hermione. I felt proud. I have a beautiful, smart daughter who was blessed by Lady Magic. Why would I feel frightened or ashamed? I  _ know _ you, and I know that you are not any of the things you are so afraid of being.”

Hermione dashed her hands across her cheeks, wiping away tears. “Promise?” she asked in a small voice.

“Promise.”

“We’re just giving Lady Magic a little helping hand,” Narcissa said gently, “It’s the responsibility of the House of Black to help carry out Her revenge and karma in this world, given eons ago in exchange for her blessing House Black with wealth. As Draco is the Heir to House Black and I am still a member of House Black-as is Lucius, partially, it is part of our responsibility.”

“Woah,” Daphne breathed, turning to Selene and Hyperion. “Do we have any responsibilities or boons from Lady Magic?”  
“House Greengrass keeps records of family histories. In exchange for that, our ancestors bargained for Neutrality. We can stay Neutral in any war, and we will not be drawn into conflict unless we want to. We will never be targeted in war. That is our boon.”

“Does every family have a responsibility and boon?” Hermione asked.

“There are five houses with responsibilities and boons,” said Narcissa. “House Greengrass and House Black, we’ve covered. House Malfoy protects and unites those that follow Her in exchange for power. House Nott conducts Magical Research in exchange for knowledge. And House Potter keeps track of, creates and records all Rituals in exchange for an innate ability to perform protective magic.”

“How come we’ve never been told any of this at all?” Draco asked, a little put out. 

“Although you receive the gifts of your family when you are born, you do not have to carry out House Responsibilities until you’re of age in the Wizarding world,” Hyperion explained. 

“What about Draco?” Hermione asked. “He’s heir to House Malfoy and House Black.”

“He takes on both responsibilities, but also receives both boons. Although Lucius and I both take up responsibilities of House Malfoy and House Black, I only receive the boon of House Black and Lucius only receives the boon of House Malfoy. Although I suppose for instance, if Draco and Hermione were to marry-” both went bright red, “The Greengrass boon is a group sort of thing so it would apply to Draco as well,” Narcissa said.

“Do you all understand?” Selene asked. When they all nodded she smiled. “Good. Now go to the kitchens and drink some hot chocolate. I want you to write a list of every single insult Ron Weasley has said to any of you four, as well as to Hannah or Pansy. If there’s any other people he targets, I want you to include that.” She paused. “Now go! We’re going to do some grown-up talk. That means none of you need to be in here.” 

When everybody started groaning and complaining, Narcissa raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to start throwing some stinging hexes in five...four...three…”

None of them heard the end of the countdown as Draco hightailed it out of the room, Theo followed him, and Daphne and Hermione grabbed a complaining Astoria and ran from the room. 

* * *

Draco stared down at the list in his hands. Here it was. Every single insult that the Weasel had lobbed at Hermione for no good reason. He looked up from the list at Hermione, who was crying quietly, being comforted by her two sisters. Draco shared a forlorn look with Theo.

“I feel so  _ stupid _ ,” Hermione said softly, “I don’t know why I care so much! Why does it hurt?” Daphne made small shushing noises, trying to comfort her twin. 

Astoria glanced at Hermione and seemed to come to a decision. “It’s ‘cos you want to be liked, Mia. And when you set out to do something, if it’s not absolutely perfect and what you intended for it to be, you beat yourself up over it.” She paused for a moment. “I think you need to figure out that it’s not your fault all the time when something doesn’t go the right way. You know, I used to think that you were practically the next Merlin when I was little. You always understood everything so quickly, and you could do every single thing you set your mind to. I never wanted to be Mum or Aunt Cissa, I always wanted to be you. I don’t know if you remember this, but I tried to read  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ after you did when I was six or seven, and I couldn’t understand it, but I read through it because it was your favorite book, and I wanted it to be my favorite book.”

Hermione looked up and threw her arms around her younger sister. She stayed like that for a few moments, before untangling herself from Astoria. “Thank you, ‘Stori.” 

“No problem. You don’t need to say that I’m super smart for being able to psychoanalyze”-Hermione snorted as Astoria horribly mispronounced the word-“you. I already knew that. Also I gave up on trying to be you after reading  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ ‘cos I realized that I was not about to put in that kind of work to be you. It’s much more fun just being Astoria anyways.”

“More fabulous?” Hermione asked, grinning wryly.

“Of course!” Astoria scoffed. “Obviously, I’m much more fabulous than all of you combined. It’s called  _ pizzazz _ .”

Everyone laughed as the girl tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Aunt Cissa,” Daphne laughed.

Hermione yawned, followed by Astoria, who quickly tried to cover her yawn. “I think I’m going to call in for an early night. I’m really tired. And Astoria, you’re coming with me.”

“Aw, come on! I’m not even-” Astoria yawned again, “Well maybe I’m a bit tired, but I can stay up later!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I guess then I won’t give you the Chocolate Frog Cards I’ve saved for you…what a shame, I even found a Hedwig!”

Astoria leaped up, and said, “Good night!” as quickly as she could before racing out of the room. Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed them a smile before stretching and following Astoria out of the room.

When she left the room, Daphne grabbed the piece of parchment from Draco’s hands. They had listed out every single thing that Weasley had said to Draco, Theo, Daphne, Hannah, Pansy, and Hannah. Hannah’s was the shortest, followed by Theo and Pansy. Daphne had a few more. Then there was the list for Draco and Hermione, both about the same length, stretching the entire piece of parchment. 

Daphne furrowed her brow, “I had no idea he said that  _ much _ to you, Draco.”

Draco shrugged. It had never mattered to him, he just let it roll off his shoulders and would lob an insult back at them. “I interact with him the most, so I guess it makes sense. Doesn’t bother me though, so it’s whatever. I mean  _ I  _ know that whatever comes out of his mouth isn’t true and is just because he’s a complete berk and he’s jealous.” Draco hopped to his feet. “Come on.”

Theo and Daphne looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders before following Draco. His intentions suddenly became clear when they were outside the sitting room, where all the adults were talking.

“-I don’t  _ care _ if you think that’s too much, Hyperion, did you  _ see  _ how Hermione was crying? She thought she was everything that Weasley boy said she was! Over the top would be  _ killing  _ all of them, on the other hand burning down their house to send a message-”

Everyone stopped talking when they saw Draco, Daphne and Theo standing in the doorway. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, “And how long were you eavesdropping?”  
“Not very long, just enough to hear about burning-” Daphne started, before being cut off by Draco.

“We finished the list.” Lucius held out his hand expectantly. “We’re not giving it to you,” Draco took in a deep breath to gather his courage, in the face of the mutinous looking adults, “Unless we get to help.”

* * *

Sirius Black stared at the bottom of his glass, sloshing around its remaining contents. It was New Years Eve, and the Malfoys were throwing a small party with some of their closest friends, but Sirius couldn’t have been less interested. He turned the unopened letter over in his hands.

It was the sixth letter he had sent to Harry. And it was the sixth one that came back, unopened. 

“Hey Sirius.”

Sirius looked up to see his younger cousin standing in the doorframe. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out with all your friends at the party?”

Draco shrugged. “Mother said you were wallowing, and said either Father or I had to come and get you to come out of your room. Father’s still angry about something I did about a week ago so he said that it was my job to cheer you up.”

“What did you do?”

Draco wore what Sirius would describe as a shit-eating grin. “I told them I wouldn’t give them the list of names Weasley’s called us, but more importantly, what he’s called  _ Hermione _ , unless I got to help them with their retaliation.”

Sirius cringed. “Is Harry as bad?”

“Well he certainly doesn’t discourage Weasley,” Draco scowled, “I know he’s your godson and all but he’s a tosser. I bet he’s not even written back to you.”

Sirius looked down, torn between defending his godson-a boy he hadn’t seen in ten years-or sticking to the unofficial Black family motto, one he hadn’t really cared about until it got him out of the hellhole that was Azkaban-family first. And that wasn’t even taking into account Hermione-the girl who had caught Pettigrew, something he had failed to do ten years ago. And was standing by and doing nothing while an innocent girl was caught in the crossfire exactly what he and his friends had given Snape hell for back in school?  _ Wait a minute _ .

“So what’s Hermione like?” Sirius asked in a deceptively innocent tone. 

Draco’s face lit up. “She’s absolutely amazing. She’s so ridiculously smart and she’s nice to everyone, even Gryffindors. Well I guess not Weasley and Potter, but she did try. But she’s friends with Neville Longbottom. She’s just ridiculously sweet. She always just cares so much about everyone and everything, you know? Sometimes I think she could’ve been a Hufflepuff with Hannah, or maybe a Gryffindor in a different life. Oh, and she could’ve easily been a Ravenclaw too, with that brain of hers. Sometimes it feels like she’s lightyears ahead of the rest of us,” Draco laughed. “She always gets her spells on the first try, and she’s absolutely brilliant at helping anyone who needs it with magic. Longbottom was absolute pants at everything except for Herbology, so Hermione started trying to figure out how to help him when she found out that he still had his father’s old wand, and she marched right up to McGonagall and told her that she needed to take him to Ollivanders to get himself a wand. And she’s got just about the prettiest eyes. They look like the sea when we holidayed in Greece, and you can always tell what she’s thinking just by looking into them.” 

Sirius’s vision flashed full of James Potter, mooning over Lily, wearing the same expression Draco was wearing that very moment. He grinned mischievously. “So, do you think she’s going to be the next Lady Black then?”

Draco went bright pink. “What gave you that impression?” he asked weakly.

Sirius grinned, “An old friend of mine was head over heels for this girl, and would talk about her with the same exact stupid mug you’re wearing.”

His face turned redder. “Who was he?” his voice became quieter, “Did he end up marrying her? Not that I care of course,” he added on hastily.

Sirius’s expression turned wistful, “James Charlus Potter. He was my best friend. Took one look at Lily Evans on the train, looked at me and told me that that was going to be the girl he was going to marry. Of course, she was friends with Snape for a while, and he and James  _ hated  _ each other, so that didn’t really help his cause. James would go all out and do these big giant displays professing his love to Lily, which she hated. Couldn’t get her to go on a date with him until seventh year. But once they started?” Sirius laughed, “Man they were besotted with each other. I’d always look at them and think ‘hey,  _ that’s  _ what love is.’ Then the war happened.” His face was stony. “And everything went to shit and everyone died. And one of my best friends is dead, the other is a traitor, and I have no idea where Moony is. Harry’s all I’ve got left from them. From that time.”

“Mother was right, you  _ are  _ wallowing. I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be all optimistic.” Draco looked at the half empty whiskey-bottle sitting beside Sirius. “Is that stuff any good?”

“Want to try it?” Sirius asked, “I won’t tell if you won’t. Burns like hell going down.”  
“If I drink it and I don’t cough or gag, will you come out to the party?”

Sirius laughed, “Sure, but you’re going to react, so I’ll be staying in here, wallowing with an eleven year old kid about the miseries of life.” He thought for a moment. “Why am I offering you whiskey when you’re eleven?” 

Draco shrugged, “So I can build up a tolerance now so I don’t look stupid when I’m in fourth year playing a drinking game?”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “If Cissa finds out though, make sure my gravestone doesn’t say something stupid. Have like a picture carved into it or something, so the ladies won’t be devastated that they can never see my beautiful face again.” Draco snorted. “Pureblood inbreeding tosses you out one way or the other. You either get a good looking bloke like me or Gregory Goyle Senior. Well?” Sirius asked, looking at Draco, holding out a shot glass filled with whiskey, “Bottoms up.”

Draco looked him in the eye, smirking, and downed the liquor in a flash, without a reaction. 

“ _ How _ ?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded.

“Theo and I used to have this game when we were kids where we’d mix ridiculously gross drinks together and whoever got sick lost,” Draco shrugged. “Deal’s a deal though, you’re coming out. Have you met Astoria yet? I think you two’d get along great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I've got a Beta now, the lovely FalconHonour, who can start next week! So shoutout to her <3


	12. The Time of My Life Fighting Dragons With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is the first chapter I've written that has been beta-d by amazing and incredible FalconHonour!

Before they knew it, the Winter Break was over and they were all back at school. The days bled quickly into weeks and then months. Hermione, while still hurt by Weasley’s comments, was much better at not letting them affect her And, each time he opened his mouth, the feeling of a residual sting, the belief that she was no better than what Weasley had said receded, as did the snow outside on the grounds, and before anyone knew it, it was April.

Hermione’s brow was furrowed, her grip on her wand tight. She was gritting her teeth in concentration as she levitated six books in the air. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, and Pansy and Daphne watched in awe as the books stayed in the air.

They all came crashing to the ground as Draco and Theo burst into the common room. Pansy picked up one of the fallen books-Hogwarts: A History-and chucked it at their heads.

“Hey!” Theo, Draco _ and _ Hermione yelled. Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy, who stuck out her tongue. “ _ You  _ are lucky that’s not one of my editions I don’t have two of. And  _ you-” _ , she turned back to the boys, “Better have a good explanation for bursting into here. Do you know how many books I was levitating?”

“Four?” Theo offered weakly, blanching.

_ “Six.”  _ Hermione ground out icily. “ _ Well?” _

“Well,” said Draco, panting “We followed Weasel and Scarhead to Hagrid’s little hut thing, right?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “And we peaked through the window, and you wouldn’t  _ believe _ what we saw! We saw...a  _ dragon _ .”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Hermione scowled, “You made me drop my books so you could lie to me? Try to make me fall for some stupid joke? There’s a dragon in a  _ wooden hut? _ Nobody is that stupid!”

“But-” Theo started to say, before he was cut off by Daphne, equally incensed.

“Theodore Tiberius Nott, you know better than to let Draco drag you into one of his stupid little plots to play a joke on us. Hermione and I haven’t fallen for one of those in  _ ages. _ ”

“But there  _ was  _ a dragon!” Draco protested.

Hermione turned to Pansy. “Please tell the boys how utterly ridiculous they’re being.”

Pansy rolled her eyes before saying, “As much as I would  _ love _ to verbally tear Draco and Theo a new one, do you guys really believe that  _ Hagrid the Half-Giant _ would be smart enough to realize that a dragon would burn down his house? I mean… that’s not so completely out of the realm of possibility…”

Daphne seemed to let the thought roll around in her head, “Okay, maybe.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well,  _ I’m  _ not believing anything until there’s some proof.”

* * *

Draco slammed a letter down in front of Hermione triumphantly the very next day.

“What is this?”

_ “This,” _ said Draco, “Is your proof. Got it from Ronald Weasley in the Infirmary, where he had a nasty bite on his hand that was turning  _ green _ .”

Hermione sighed, “Hand me the stupid letter.”

> _ Dear Ron, _
> 
> _ How are you? Thanks for the letter — I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. _
> 
> _ Send me an answer as soon as possible. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Charlie _

As Hermione read the letter, her eyebrows rose and rose, until they almost disappeared into her perfectly coiffed hair.Seeing her sister’s confusion, Daphne snatched the letter out of her hands the moment she’d read it. Curiosity getting the better of her, Pansy leaned over Daphne’s shoulder to read along.

“Wow,” Pansy laughed, “How dumb do you have to be to write a letter admitting to an illegal activity? And not even encode it? Our parents would skin us alive if we did anything even half that foolish!”

Theo shrugged, “That’s the Weasleys for you. Come on, let’s go, we’ve got Potions in a bit.”

As the first-year Slytherins walked towards the Dungeons, Draco wore a grin. “So….?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing, “You were right.”

“And  _ you  _ were wrong!”

“I guess it happens  _ occasionally _ ,” Hermione smirked, “Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

When Professor Snape entered the dungeons, Hermione and Draco were settling in at the same time as Potter and Weasley. “Five points from Gryffindor for failure to be on time,” Professor Snape sneered.

“As if Malfoy and Greengrass weren’t just settling down too!” Potter protested.

“Potter,” Draco smirked and turned around, “Can we please get on with the lesson? Some of us are actually  _ good _ at Potions and aren’t a waste of space in this class.”

As they turned around, Hermione elbowed him. “Draco,” she scolded.

“What?” Draco looked at her innocently.

“Another five points from Gryffindor for further disruption. Now, today we will be brewing a general Antidote potion. The instructions are on the board,” he waved his hand, “Begin.”

* * *

Saturday night rolled around and the group of Slytherins were still undecided on what they planned to do about the dragon situation.

“We need to turn it into a Professor,” Hermione pleaded.

“What?” Draco turned to her, “No! Let’s sneak out and catch them!”

“All six of us?” Blaise said skeptically, “There’s no way we wouldn’t be caught by Filch.”

“We could only send one or two of us,” Theo suggested.

“ _ I’m  _ not going because I’m not going to serve detention when you get caught,” Hermione sniffed.

“ _ If  _ we get caught,” Draco said.

_"When_ you get caught.”

“Oh  _ come on,”  _ Daphne snapped, “Draco and Blaise will go. The rest of us can wait up in the common room for when you two get back.”

And so with that, Blaise and Draco left the common room and the girls and Theo started playing Exploding Snap. As the latter cleaned up his fourth victory, Hermione glanced at the clock. “They should be back by now.”

Daphne waved away her concerns, “So what, they’re probably just taking their time getting back.”

“What if they get caught?”

“Then that’s on them,” Pansy said, “If they’re stupid enough to wind up getting caught, then it’s their own fault.”

“They won’t  _ get  _ caught,” Daphne rolled her eyes.

“Five galleons?” Pansy asked.

“Sure.”

* * *

Draco and Blaise crept through the corridors of Hogwarts, wary of any noise they heard. The moonlight cast enough light for them to see as they navigated their way to the base of the Astronomy tower, squirrelling themselves away in a dark alcove, where they sat and waited for the Gryffindors.

“Are we just going to sit here and wait in silence?” Blaise asked, his voice low.

“I guess not. I can try and cast this spell my father will sometimes use so nobody hears us. But we do need to pay enough attention to get Potter and Weasley caught.” Draco waved his wand and waited for the telltale buzz. Contented, he started talking at a normal volume. “It’s ok to talk now.”

Blaise nodded.

“Did your mother really kill her husbands or is that a load of bunk?” Draco burst out.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” Blaise groaned, “Here, let’s play a game. We can ask the other whatever we want, and you  _ have  _ to answer honestly.”

“Fine,” Draco nodded.

Blaise took in a breath, “Well, my mother’s had a total of five husbands so far. My father was the second, actually. Her first husband died when he got caught up in a duel, and my mother got an exorbitant amount of money from that. When she met my father, they got married really quickly, and she got pregnant pretty soon after. After I was born, their marriage kind of went to shit, and my mother didn’t want to get a divorce. So one night she ends up poisoning him. That was kind of an accident, but then she found out she’d been left with everything in his will. After that, it kind of dissolved into a habit of marrying the richest man she could find, and bumping him off for his money.”

Draco’s eyebrows raised, “You’re just going to  _ tell _ me that? What’s stopping me from going to the Aurors?”

Blaise shrugged, “‘Cause the Malfoys aren’t exactly squeaky clean either. And I’d also like you to get over your weird aversion to me. Slytherin brotherhood and all that.” He laughed.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

“Now it’s my turn for a question,” he smirked. “Why do you hate me?”

Draco sputtered, “I don’t  _ hate  _ you.”

“Sure you don’t. I mean, we’re practically making daisy-chains together.”

“I never said I  _ liked _ you either,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I mean what kind of a question  _ is  _ that? You know the answer.”

Blaise smirked, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Fine,” Draco grumbled, “It’s ‘cause you came in with your stupid fancy Italian life and your stupid fancy Italian culture and start flirting with the girl  _ I’ve  _ been in love with for-” he stopped suddenly.

“Did you not know you were in love with her?” Blaise asked.

“Love is a strong word,” Draco mumbled, “I know it sounds stupid. I’m eleven, I mean, Theo and Daphne are literally soulmates and I don’t think they’re in love with each other yet. It sounds dumb to say that about someone who doesn’t even realize I exist, not in the way that I’d like her to.”

Blaise sighed, “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she really realizes that any guy exists like that. Not yet at least. That’s part of the reason I like flirting with her, ‘cos it either flusters her or goes straight over her head.” Draco glared at him. “I didn’t say that was the  _ only _ reason. Come on, how much of a jerk would I have to be? It’s also ‘cos she _ cares.  _ I’ve never had anyone do that before. Oh, Mother will give me whatever I ask for, or almost anything, but she never cares about  _ me. _ She never pays attention to me or asks me about what I’ve done on any one day, you know? It’s always all about her latest boyfriend. But Hermione will just come to dinner and sit down and ask me what I thought about the Charms project we have to do, or if I’d ever seen the plant we’d studied in Herbology that day before. Nobody’s ever really treated me like that before. Especially not my mother.”

“Of course,” he added, lightly, “It doesn’t hurt that Hermione is smart and kind and just so pretty that it almost hurts to look at her.”

Even Blaise’s teasing lilt couldn’t completely hide the pain in his voice, however. There was nothing Draco could say and so they sat in silence. 

“You could stay at the Manor this summer,” Draco said quietly, “If you want.”

“I don’t need or want your pity,” Blaise said sharply.

“I know,” Draco said. He paused. “Mother likes having people in the Manor. My parents always wanted to have more kids than just me. It never really worked out though. When I was five, my mother finally got pregnant. She was about four or five months along, but then she had a bad miscarriage. After that they just stopped trying, I think. Mother grew up in a big family. She had two older sisters, and a bunch of cousins. Then her oldest sister, Andromeda, got herself disowned for marrying a Muggleborn, and Bellatrix went off the rails, and Regulus got himself killed in ‘79 and Sirius got himself arrested for murder in ‘81. And it was just her,” he sighed. “You know, she’s always wanted to reach out to Andromeda, but the family magic that was set by her Grandfather, the Head of the House of Black, made it so when Andromeda was disowned, the family magic wouldn’t allow anybody in the Black family to speak to or get into any kind of contact with Andromeda. I mean, I think if Andromeda got reinstated, Mother would finally be able to talk to her again. In his last letter, Sirius mentioned trying to figure out how to reinstate her in the family. There’s a lot of family magic to navigate with all that so it won’t be all that easy. But anyways, she just misses having people around. She mothers Theo like crazy, since he practically splits his time between us and the Greengrasses. She's all three of the Greengrass sisters’ godmother, and between Pansy and Hannah, she’s...well, she’s known almost all of us since we were babies.”

Blaise took in a deep breath, “Maybe I’ll think about coming over this summer.”

They sat in silence, before hearing footsteps.  _ Potter and Weasley. _ They jumped out of their hiding spot. “And just  _ what  _ do you think you two are doing?” The boys looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing in front of them, arms crossed.

“Weasley and Potter have a dragon!” Draco burst out..

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes, “I’m sure they do.”

“But-”

“I’m surprised Miss Greengrass didn’t talk you two out of this,” said Professor McGonagall.

The boys exchanged a look, “Not for lack of trying on her part,” Blaise laughed.

Professor McGonagall let out a long-suffering sigh, “20 points from Slytherin, each, as well as detention. I’m taking you two back to your common room.”

“But what about the Potter and Weasley and the dragon?”

“There  _ is no dragon, _ Mister Malfoy. I’m sure they fed you some cock and bull story to lure you into sneaking out, and I will have a discussion with them about that, but there is no dragon.” She moved her hands to shoo them along. “Come along, we’re getting the two of you back to your dormitories.”

* * *

“I told you so,” Hermione said at breakfast the next morning. “Who’s your detention with, anyways?”

“Hagrid,” Blaise groused.

“Well, on the bright side,” said Daphne, sliding into her seat, “Potter and Weasley  _ also  _ got caught last night. By  _ Filch _ . He took a hundred points from Gryffindor between the two of them and gave them detention as well.”

Theo looked at the hourglasses that counted House Points. Slytherin was still in the lead-just barely due to the point loss of last night-and Gryffindor was almost empty. “How’d you find all that out?” he asked.

“Through Neville,” Daphne shrugged, “I went over to cross-reference our essays on Herbology. Well, at least that’s what I  _ said _ I was doing. I really just wanted to figure out what happened to the Wonder Duo last night and why Gryffindor had lost so many points.”

“Did they get caught for the dragon?” Draco asked.

Daphne shook her head, “No. I think they’d be bragging about that, but currently, they’re not very well liked within their house.” They all looked at the Gryffindor table, where there was a wide berth around where Potter and Weasley were sitting. “I don’t think their housemates are very pleased with the lack of points.”

“Where’s their loyalty?” Theo looked shocked.

“Gryffindors don’t  _ have  _ loyalty,” Pansy said. “That’s Hufflepuff.”

“Sure,” said Theo, “But most houses all stick together within themselves, don’t they?”

“Ravenclaw does,” Blaise inserted, “I mean, granted, it’s not like what we’ve got in Slytherin or whatever Hufflepuff smokes, but the ‘Claws all respect each other enough, I suppose.”

“How do you figure that out?” Hermione asked.

"I’m friendly with Anthony Goldstein,” said Blaise simply.

“Why?” Pansy snorted, “He’s ridiculously annoying.”

“I guess I just have the patience of a saint,” Blaise grinned.

* * *

The night of Draco and Blaise’s detention arrived far more quickly than anyone felt it should. Hermione fussed over the boys in the common room at 10:30. “Your detention is with Hagrid right? So it shouldn’t be too terribly bad. They might just make you do lines or maybe have you clean out the Hogwarts stables or something.” She looked at Draco as he grimaced at her words. “ _ Don’t  _ complain, I don’t want either of you having to go back for another detention.”

The two boys left for the entrance hall, and when they arrived, Filch was waiting with a grouchy look upon his face, as were Potter and Weasley.

“We just  _ had  _ to get detention with  _ them _ ,” Draco muttered.

“This is going to be a long night,” Blaise sighed.

They all trekked through the grounds of Hogwarts towards a small hut tucked away in a corner of the grounds by the pumpkin patch. Filch was waxing lyrical about corporal punishment and how they all deserved it, but Draco was tuning him out.

“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started,” Hagrid called out.

Potter and Weasley seemed to be excited about this turn of events. Had they not known that the detention would be with Hagrid?

“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy — it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece,” Filch grinned nastily.

Draco’s heart sank. They were going into the forest? The  _ Forbidden Forest _ , the one students weren’t allowed to enter? “The forest?” Draco asked. “We can’t go in there at night — there’s all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard.”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?” Draco started praying to Lady Magic.

Hagrid came into the moonlight, wearing a crossbow and a fearsome looking dog was at his heel. “Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Ron?”

“Well, I always knew I was going to die because of Gryffindor favoritism, but I never thought it would be so soon,” Blaise whispered to Draco, “If one of us makes it out of here, we should make sure the other has a nice funeral.”

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ’Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Draco turned to Hagrid, trying to put on an air of superiority. “I’m not going in that forest.”

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“This is ridiculous!” Blaise burst out, “The punishment and the crime don’t match.”

“We ought to be doing lines or something,” Draco nodded, “If my father knew I was doing this, he’d-”

“— tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!”

Draco glared at the half-giant, half determined to turn around. But then he remembered Hermione asking for them to not complain, to not get another detention. He dropped his gaze, scowling at the ground.

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ’cause it’s a bit dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

They started walking towards the edge of the forest. Blaise leaned into Draco, “As if we’re not taking a risk by going into the Forbidden Forest.” Draco stifled a laugh.

Hagrid lifted his lantern into the air, and pointed at a pool of silvery liquid, and Draco’s humour died away immediately. “Unicorn’s blood,” he murmured, before he could stop himself.

“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” said Blaise, the note of panic in his voice echoing the same fears Draco felt deep in his stomach.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.” .

“I want Fang,” Draco said, as he looked at the mutt’s sharp teeth.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. “So me, Ron, an’ Zabini’ll go one way an’ Malfoy, Harry, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an’ practice now — that’s it — an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh — so, be careful — let’s go.”

Draco grabbed a hold of the lead on Fang and marched into the forest. Potter ran to catch up to him and they walked side by side in the forest in silence.

It was Potter who broke the silence. “What’d you and Zabini get detention for?”

“Trying to catch you and Weasley with the stupid dragon.” Potter paled, and Draco grinned. “You didn’t know we knew about that? Theo and I  _ saw  _ you with it in Hagrid’s hut, and the book I nicked from Weasley had a letter from his brother in it, detailing the pick-up. Do you realize just how stupid you two have to be to put something like that in  _ writing?” _

Potter scowled, “Well it wasn’t like it was for you to read anyways.”

“You know what else you are, besides stupid, Potter?” Draco continued, “You’re a coward.”

“I’m  _ not  _ a coward,” Potter muttered.

“Sure you are. What kind of person, other than a coward, lets his best mate pick on someone like Hermione? And it’s not like you don’t do it to the rest of us either!”

“I’m  _ not  _ a coward!” Potter grit his teeth.

“Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to be all chivalrous? Chivalrous and brave. I mean, for all your faults, Potter, you’re not half as stupid as Weasley. Now that’s not saying much-”

“Shut up!” Potter yelled.

“ _ I wasn’t done!”  _ Draco yelled back. “You’re too much of a coward and a blind follower to not consider that maybe Weasley isn't the end-all-and- be-all of knowledge in the Wizarding World! You won’t even respond to a single letter your Godfather sends you, when he went to _ Azkaban  _ for you _ for ten years!  _ Just because Weasley reckons he’s Dark!”

“He  _ is  _ Dark!” Potter roared back, “He’s a  _ Black _ , Blacks are Dark! Like Malfoys are! And Notts! And any Slytherin! Where’d Voldemort come from? Certainly wasn’t  _ Gryffindor!” _

Draco’s voice leveled out, and turned ice cold. “Now are we going to judge every house by the worst member? Let’s take a look at, oh I don’t know, Peter Pettigrew. Did you read the notes on his trial?” Potter refused to answer. “He was ridiculously  _ twisted.  _ He raped and murdered people and had  _ no remorse. And he was from  _ **_Gryffindor_ ** _!  _ But that aside, how can you be so moronic as to believe that being Dark and being evil are the same thing!”

Potter glared at him. “They are.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco mocked, “Let’s all bow down to the king of knowledge! The person who knows everything there is about Magic! Why would I believe  _ you _ ?”

“You don’t have to believe me! Dumbledore says so!”

“And of course, Dumbledore is infallible. I should have known you’d think like that. You lap up every single word he says, you and every single person in his little cult.”

Potter was about to retort before something caught his eye. He turned, and, despite himself, Draco turned to look too. He swallowed. It was the unicorn. It was dead, probably recently dead, given the lack of the smell of decay. Its limbs were twisted and spread out at odd angles. A rustling noise came from nearby bushes, and out slithered a wraith-like form, covered in a dark cloak. It lowered itself to the wound on the unicorn’s torso, and began to drink.

Draco screamed. Screamed and turned around and  _ ran. _ The kind of run where his heart was pounding and he couldn’t feel his legs and he was just fueled by adrenaline to  _ go, go, go!  _ The kind where he didn’t look back. The kind of run where he didn’t trip upon a fallen branch by some Magic-Given miracle. The kind of run where when he reached the path Hagrid, Weasley and Blaise are on, and saw them right ahead but just didn’t care. Draco kept running and running and running. Running until he reached the clearing, where you can see the stars again and the forest cuts off abruptly and Hogwarts sits upon the top of the hills half a mile away, and he finally became aware of the massive dog that had been running alongside him the whole time, the bellowing of Hagrid, rushing from the path. The kind of run where he took himself off to a dark edge of the forest and emptied his stomach.

Blaise came up to Draco and put a hand on his shoulder. The blond boy was hunched over, hands on knees, his chest heaving as his lungs screamed for oxygen. Draco jumped, before turning around to see who it was. He relaxed.

“What did you see?” Blaise breathed.

“Later,” Draco heaved.

“Where’s Harry?” Hagrid asked, looking around angrily, “Did yeh abandon ‘im out ther’, Malfoy?”

“He was running for his life,” Blaise’s voice was hard. “He was more worried about keeping himself alive than looking for wherever Potter wandered off to.” Hagrid opened his mouth to say something else, to further reprimand them. “We’ve served our detention,” Blaise said coolly, “We’re going back to the castle, and telling Professor Snape about the blatant disregard for human life that came with this detention. If you have a problem, take it up with him.” With that, Blaise slung his arm around Draco’s shoulder, leading him back up to the castle, keeping him steady.

“We weren’t doin’ nothin’ that dangerous!” Hagrid roared.

Blaise turned around, “We were in the Forbidden Forest, which we’re not allowed to go into in the first place,  _ at night _ , and we were out hunting for a unicorn, which was being stalked by something that was trying to take its blood! Like hell it wasn’t dangerous!”

By the time they reached the castle, Draco had regained his breath and was walking without assistance.

“It was something like a wraith,” he said quietly. “It was dark and it slithered and it was maybe a yard and a half away from us. It was drinking the unicorn’s blood. The unicorn was dead.”

Blaise said nothing. They walked to the dungeons, and knocked on the door that led to Professor Snape’s office, which was in front of his personal quarters. A few moments later, a tired looking Snape opened the door. He looked at the two boys. “What are you two doing here at this hour?” Draco stumbled into his godfather, holding him tightly. Snape started slightly at the usually poised boy’s loss of control, but recovered himself swiftly enough. “Come along, sit in the chairs, tell me what happened.” Snape directed the two to the chairs and sat on the other side of his desk.

“It’d be better, I think if I showed you,” Draco said. Nodding, Professor Snape entered into his mind through legilimency, moving through smoothly, before finding the memory Draco was presenting, held at the forefront of his mind. After viewing the memory, he came out, pale.

“What did you see?” asked Blaise.

Snape reached into a drawer, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and conjured a glass. He poured the whiskey into the glass, and took a long drink. “Someone that’s supposed to have been dead since 1981.”

* * *

The June heat made the entire castle warm and sticky. Thomas and Carrine quickly taught each of the first-years cooling charms, which they each used often. Luckily, the one area that remained untouched by the heat was the dungeons, so the Potions Classroom and the Slytherin common room and dormitories remained as blessedly cool as ever.

Through occlumency, Draco was able to tuck away his memory of the night of detention, or at least the fear that came with it. He refused to tell anybody else the details of what happened beyond that the detention was in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione, of course, had been outraged by the fact that the detention had even been in the Forbidden Forest in the first place.

_ "Honestly _ ,” she complained, “How ridiculously dangerous is that! I can’t believe that that’s even allowed!”

“It is called the  _ Forbidden  _ Forest,” Daphne added on, wryly, “You think they’d stick to their own rules.”

The week of exams was met with feverish anxiety from Hermione, as she furiously studied things she already knew by heart. Draco, although not quite so loud about it, was also spending increasing amounts of time in the library, poring over his textbooks and notes. Theo had his nose stuck in a book-although that wasn’t quite  _ abnormal _ \- and Daphne was simultaneously studying for History of Magic-as little as she needed it-and railing against Binns. Hannah made colorful flashcards for each of their subjects and made Pansy study them with her, and Blaise looked at all of them like they were crazy, which resulted in Pansy teasing him mercilessly when she found him flipping through his notes from the year.

At the Leaving Feast, the Slytherins sat cheerfully at their table, the Great Hall decked out in green and silver, the Slytherin banners decorating the entire hall. Hermione was talking to Pansy about summer plans when a hush fell over the hall, and she turned to see Potter, who had been decidedly missing for the past three days sit down next to Weasley.

“That’s rather unfortunate,” Pansy said, “I thought he had been expelled or maybe even died. Would’ve been nice not to have to deal with him anymore.”

_ “Pansy!”  _ Hermione slapped her shoulder.

“What?” Pansy was unperturbed.

“You can’t just  _ say _ that!”

“I just did” Pansy shrugged carelessly

“You owe me twenty galleons,” Daphne said gleefully, “You said he’d be dead by the end of the school year!”

“It’s not over yet,” Pansy said, “Not until we’re back in London. Then we’ll see who owes who twenty galleons.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and the Hall grew silent.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . . Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

Slytherin burst out into cheers, stomps, and clapping, and Draco started banging his goblet on the table.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

The room went very still. Hermione’s face fell and she looked at Daphne, who looked equally upset. It didn’t take a Seer to know where this was going.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes . . . “First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House seventy-five points.”

Gryffindor burst out into cheers, and Hermione looked around at her year-mates, confused.

“Seventy-five points for a game of  _ chess?” _ Theo asked.

At last there was silence again.

“Second — to Mr. Harry Potter . . .” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “. . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House a hundred points.” Gryffindor burst out into further cheers, the sound deafening.

“Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, “we need a little change of decoration.” He clapped his hands. In an instant, the Slytherin decorations turned into ones for Gryffindor, and however impossible it seemed, Gryffindor grew  _ louder. _

Hermione furiously wiped away tears. He had taken away all their points, all their hard work, to give it to Gryffindor at the last moment! Right in front of the whole school, changing the decorations! It was cruel beyond measure. She looked around at her housemates. At the end of the table, Carrine had her head buried in Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas himself was looking stonily across the hall at the Gryffindors. Terrence Higgs, the Head Boy, was glaring at Dumbledore. Daphne’s mouth was opened in a small ‘oh’, and Theo was looking down at the table. Blaise, Pansy, and Draco were scowling at everyone-the Gryffindors, the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall. Even at the Hufflepuff table, Hannah was looking at her Slytherin friends with pity.

Only the release of their marks at breakfast the next morning was able to lift their spirits slightly. Hermione had done excellently in each of her classes, and was first in her year, followed closely by Draco, who smiled at her good-naturedly. Theo was third, which made him look around, surprised.

“Oh come  _ on!” _ Daphne grinned-who had landed fourth in the year, partially due to her perfect score in History of Magic-“You shouldn’t be surprised by that, Theo, you’re absolutely brilliant!”

Hannah was thrilled with her fifth, and Blaise and Pansy were tied for seventh-Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw, had ranked sixth. Greg and Vince were proudly showing everyone they saw that they had received Acceptables in each of their classes, as well as an EE in Astronomy and Herbology respectively, the hard work in the library and in tutoring sessions paying off. Tracy and Millie were in the top fifteen of the year.

Hermione and Draco visited Neville at the Gryffindor table, who was staring in shock at his position as tenth in the class, only being beat out for ninth by Padma Patil, as well as the highest in Gryffindor. He was even more excited about his EE in Potions.

“Congratulations, Neville,” Hermione had beamed.

“An  _ EE _ in  _ Potions _ !” Neville had exclaimed, “All thanks to Professor Snape!” Neville had been working extensively each week in a free period with Professor Snape. While he certainly wasn’t a Potions prodigy, he was better than passable at brewing, and he particularly excelled in ingredient preparation. “My Gran’s going to be so proud of me!” He threw his arms around Hermione, “I was rubbish at the beginning of the year until you figured out I needed a new wand. I can’t thank you enough.”

The feeling of warmth spread through Hermione, bursting out on to her face into a wide smile.

“Come on,” said Draco, grinning, “We’ve got to get to the station so we can get a good compartment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is first year! Next chapter is a bit short, it's an interlude and we'll be meeting a character I've been dying for y'all to see for forever, as well as getting some more backstory on a different character.


	13. I Could Never Give You Peace (An Interlude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok-a couple of things. I've added this story to ff.net.  
> I'd like to thank my absolutely incredible beta, FalconHonour. She blows me away with how just little adjustments and edits make so much of a difference.  
> I'd also like to thank you guys for 250 kudos and 6000 views! I never thought this would get this far or this big, but I'm so glad all of you are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it.  
> This is the first chapter with Ginny in it, and I am so excited-I've been waiting to pull her out for ages.
> 
> TW: Mentions and descriptions of parental neglect and emotional abuse

Ginny Weasley was an absolutely perfect miracle child. At least, that’s what her parents thought.. The youngest of seven siblings. The only girl born to the Weasley line in five generations. A girl with bright copper hair that she usually wore in loose braids, and freckles spattered across her face and body, like stars in the night sky.

She looked up to her brothers, wrote to Charlie and Bill daily, and followed the twins around constantly. Every summer, she would ask Percy to teach her whatever he’d learned in school that year (even if he was terribly stuffy and condescending about it)

And then there was Ron. Ginny didn’t particularly like Ron. Ron was annoying. But Ron was friends with  _ Harry Potter.  _ And Ron and the twins were bringing  _ Harry Potter _ to the Burrow. Ginny, like many little witches, had a crush on Harry Potter. Who wouldn’t? His books showcased his many adventures -how he was kind to everyone. How he was brave and good and absolutely, positively perfect.

When Ginny saw him  _ in her own kitchen _ , she squealed and ran upstairs, blushing from head to toe. That summer, she shadowed Harry constantly, sneaking behind trees and in bushes whenever she saw him with Ron or one of her other brothers.. At least she did until one bright August morning.

On that particular morning, she was up a tree, huddled in the crook of where all the limbs met, when she heard Harry and Ron approach. She ducked into the leaves, hidden from view, as they walked towards the tree and sat at the base, sinking down with their legs sprawled out.

“I can’t wait to go back to Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Really?” said Ron, “Even with everyone in  _ Slytherin _ ?”

Harry shook his head fervently, “No, not them. Evil gits, the whole lot of them.”

“Too right.”

“You know, Malfoy always acts like Greengrass is a saint.”

“Which one?”

“Hermione.”

“Since when do you know the snake’s names?”  
“Since Malfoy yelled at her about being nice to her. While we were in the Forest of all places. Honestly, he needs to get his priorities straight.”

Ron scoffed, “She’s a snake. End of story.”

“I know! She wouldn’t have been sorted into Slytherin if she wasn’t just like the rest of them.”

Ginny’s heart sank as she realised that maybe, just maybe, Harry Potter wasn’t as perfect as she had always thought he was.

Because  _ she _ wanted to be in Slytherin. Actually, it was more than that. It wasn’t that she  _ wanted  _ to be in Slytherin. It was that she  _ knew _ she would be in Slytherin with every fibre of her being. When Bill had told her the traits of each of the four houses, that was the one she’d matched with. Indeed, from the very first time she’d heard the name Slytherin, it had called to her, called to something deep within her.

The boys continued to complain about and deride each member of Slytherin one by one, until her mother called them from the Burrow. Ginny let out a sigh of relief, and swung herself down from the tree. She landed lightly, feet sinking into the soft grass, before running off to find Fred and George. 

They turned out to be sitting by the lake, skipping rocks.

“Fred! George!” Ginny called out, as she ran towards them. They turned around, twin smiles on their faces.

“Ginny!”

“What brings you here?” George asked.

“Besides you wanting to hang out with your favourite brothers,” Fred winked. 

Ginny paused. “I have some questions.” They gestured for her to continue. “About Hogwarts.”

“You came to the right blokes then!” Fred grinned.

“Nobody knows more about Hogwarts than we do,” George bragged.

Ginny gave them a small smile, “I know. I just need to swear you guys to secrecy. You can’t tell  _ anyone  _ about this, okay?” She paused. “And  _ please  _ don’t make fun of me,” she pleaded.

Fred and George exchanged a worried look, mentally communicating in the way that only twins could. They seemed to come to a decision. “Of course,” George said softly.

“Anything for our favourite little sister,” Fred added.

Ginny gathered all her courage, and took in a deep breath. “Do you guys….hate Slytherin?”

George shook his head, “I don’t, not really. And Fred,” he hit his twin in the shoulder, “really likes Slytherins. In fact, you could say he lo-”

Fred clamped a hand over George’s mouth, blushing Gryffindor scarlet, “Er - well, they’re all right, I think. At least, they don’t deserve the hate they get from Gryffindor.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “You have a crush on a Slytherin!”

George grinned triumphantly as he wrestled his way out of Fred’s headlock, “Her name’s Emiline Rosier.”

“Hey!” Fred protested, “I swore you to secrecy-”

“Oh come on! Anyone with half a brain can tell you like her!” George crowed, “You watch her in the Great Hall so often, you’d think your eyes were attached to her!”

“That’s brilliant, Fred,” Ginny said genuinely, before her brothers could start tussling again.

Fred froze, his head snapping towards her, “Really?” 

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. What’s she like?”

Fred lit up, “She’s absolutely incredible. She’s a Beater on the Quidditch team and she’s wicked good at it. She hit me with a bludger  _ twice  _ during the Slytherin-Gryffindor game.” Fred’s smile was goofy, and took up his whole face. “She’s incredible at dueling and Charms. We were partners for a duel in DADA this last year, and it was the most fun I’ve ever had. She hit me with a jinx so that I had to speak in rhymes for the rest of the day, and when  _ McGonagall  _ tried to fix it during Transfiguration, she  _ couldn’t!  _ Emiline just sat there with a smug expression on her face. It was  _ wonderful. _ ” 

“She acts like she hates our pranks, but I think she secretly likes them,” George added.

“She totally does,” said Fred confidently.

“Any other questions?” asked George.

“Do you know who Hermione Greengrass is?” Ginny asked. 

George’s face went hard. “Where’d you hear her name?”

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek, “I overheard Harry and Ron complaining about her. They said some really awful things.”

Fred’s face darkened, “They haven’t eased up on her?”

“What?” Ginny asked.

George launched into an explanation. “Hermione Greengrass is this Slytherin firstie. She’s close to Draco Malfoy, which” he held up a hand hastily, “is neither here nor there. I know Mum and Dad don’t like the Malfoys, but I’ve never really met any of them, so I’m reserving judgement until I do. She’s got a twin sister named Daphne and also hangs out with a Nott-”

“-Theo Nott-” Fred cut in.

“-And a Parkinson-”

“-Pansy Parkinson-”

“Who are both in her house in her year. There’s also an Italian kid with a famous mother who she also hangs around-”

“-Blaise Zabini-”

“And some Hufflepuff whose name I can’t remember-”

“-Hannah Abbott-”

“And she’s also friends with Neville Longbottom. Really sweet girl, from what I can tell. For some reason Harry and Ron, especially Ron, have it out for her and her friends. They mostly go after her, though Merlin knows why. She hasn’t really done anything to them! We’ve told them to back off, as has McGonagall, but for some reason they won’t.”

“She’s also Emiline’s cousin,” Fred added, “I’ll sometimes see her and Emiline eating together. And she once covered for us when Filch was trying to grab us for covering his office in peanut butter. She’d seen us go running round the corner and hide behind one of the suits of armour, and when Filch came running by and asked her where we’d gone, she told him the wrong direction, and then went off like it was nothing.”

“Don’t know why she did it, but she did, so that’s earned her a spot in our good books,”George shrugged.

“Wait,” said Ginny, “How do you know all their names, Fred?”

Now it was Fred’s turn to shrug, “I make sure that I know everybody’s name in the castle.”

Ginny nodded, tucking that piece of information away. “Okay, my last question is,” Ginny paused, “If I go to Slytherin, will you guys be mad at me?”

“Merlin, no!” George cried.

“I mean we were almost put there ourselves, you know.”

“A toss-up really.”

“Fifty-fifty split!” They grinned at each other.

“But,” said George, with a serious look on his face, “If you get sorted into Slytherin, we won’t be upset with you.”

“We’ll be proud!” Fred said, “In fact, you can help set me up with Emiline!” George hit him in the back of the head. “Ow!” He scowled at his twin, before turning back to Ginny . “But, seriously, there’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin. We’ll fight anyone who tries to get on you if the hat puts you there.”

“The hat?” Ginny asked.

“Oh,” said George, waving his hand, “When they want to Sort you, they make you wear this hat that talks to you and figures out which house you should go to.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you tell Ron last year that you had to fight a troll or something?”

Fred laughed, “Ah yes, that  _ was  _ brilliant.”

“But the difference is between you and Ronniekins,” George leaned in.

“Is that we actually  _ like  _ you,” Fred finished, whispering conspiratorially. 

“In fact, we’ll even teach you the Bat-Bogey hex on the Hogwarts Express if you sit in our compartment!” George grinned. 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to do magic on the train?” Ginny asked, “How can you teach me a hex if we can’t do magic?”

“Oh!” Fred brightened, “We figured out a year or two back that the Trace can’t really tell who’s casting what in a magical area. In fact, we practice in our room sometimes, but don’t tell anyone we said that.”

“Really?” Ginny grinned, “That’s  _ brilliant!” _

And so Ginny Weasley went about the rest of her summer with a much lighter heart, and dreams of green and silver echoing through her mind.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson was born a disappointment. At least, she was if you asked her parents.

“She should’ve been born a boy,” Perseus Parkinson had said to Posey Parkinson a week after she was born. Posey had whole-heartedly agreed.

“Although I suppose she’s not a  _ total  _ waste,” Posey had conceded, “She could secure a prosperous marriage.”

And so Perseus and Posey Parkinson attempted to create a betrothal between every wealthy pureblood family and their little Pansy. But for whatever reason, Lady Magic would not allow a single contract to seal. As such, Pansy returned to being a disappointment.

Perseus and Posey tried to have another child, a son, for years, but were eventually declared to be infertile by the Healers at St. Mungos. So they returned to their disappointment of a child and tried to turn her into the perfect Pureblood daughter. But no matter what Pansy learned, or how hard she tried, she was still a disappointment. 

When she befriended a young Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, as well as the Greengrass girls, Pansy was less of a disappointment. That is, until Perseus tried to secure a betrothal between Pansy and one of the two boys and discovered his efforts would be fruitless. Young Theo Nott was already betrothed to Daphne Greengrass, and they shared a soulbond, so that was completely nonviable. And when Perseus approached the Malfoys, Narcissa, having already heard how the Parkinsons had tried to tie their daughter to every pureblood boy in England, had firmly declined, claiming that she wanted her Draco to be able to choose his bride for himself, within reason, of course

That was when her mother and father gave up. After that, Pansy rarely ever saw them. Instead, she was raised by a myriad of House Elves and governesses.At least she did until her friends’ parents got wind of the situation. By the time she was five, Pansy all but lived with the Greengrasses. And then the Abbots had moved in next door.

Pansy had gone with the Greengrasses to welcome the Abbotts to the neighbourhood. She was standing a little apart from everyone else when a blonde girl with pigtails and a bright smile walked up to her and said, “Hi, I’m Hannah. We’re going to be best friends from now on, ‘kay?”

And so that was that. When Pansy was about eight, Blair and Maurice Abbott found out about the Parkinsons’ less than ideal parenting style. In their typical generous fashion, they insisted that she move in with them, and wrote a letter to the Parkinsons, inquiring if they would be able to host her and have her learn her pre-Hogwarts curriculum with Hannah. The Parkinsons had written back in approval. After all, Pansy was a disappointment, and the Abbotts were Purebloods, so it was an acceptable situation.

The last time Pansy had seen her parents was on her eleventh birthday, and that was only so that could respond to her Hogwarts owl.. The conversation was brief, and had ended with Posey scolding Pansy to  _ ‘Hold your tongue!” _ Perseus Parkinson, meanwhile, had told his eleven-year-old daughter to find her husband, before muttering under his breath that she probably wouldn’t, because she was a disappointment. 

Blair Abbott had moved forward at that, but before she could speak, Pansy had run upstairs into Hannah’s room and slammed the door behind her. 

“I hate them,” she said, “I hate them so much, it makes me want to burst.” 

Hannah pulled her into a hug. “What was it this time?”

“They told me that I was a disappointment,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “As if they haven’t told me already. But I didn’t take it lying down this time. I’m not a baby any more. I said, ‘Posey, Perseus, I am aware that I am a disappointment to you. Fortunately, I do not measure my self worth by your asinine standards and ideas. Even if I did, I’d still never be enough because all you two do is project your insecurities onto me.’

Hannah’s mouth dropped open, “You  _ didn’t _ .”

“I did. Perseus was pissed that I called them by their first names, so I told them that if they wanted me to call them mother and father, then they should’ve actually been parents. I told him that conceiving and birthing me, before ignoring me for eleven years, hardly qualifies. Posey told me to hold my tongue and that-” Pansy switched into a parody of her mother’s voice-“ _ You’ll never find a husband if you act like that. _ ” Pansy laughed, “You know, I’m never going to have a husband. Just to spite her. I’ll either never marry or I’ll have a w-” she cut herself off, “Probably I’ll just never marry. I think they want me to marry  _ Draco _ .” 

They both made a face, before bursting into laughter.

“That’ll never happen,” Hannah giggled, “You and Draco would  _ never  _ work out in  _ that  _ way. You work as friends, but if you got married, I think you two would last all of five minutes before tearing each other apart.” Pansy grinned. “Besides, he’s been besotted with Hermione for ages.”

“I still think he doesn’t realize that all of us know. Well all of us minus Hermione, of course,” Pansy snorted, “For all the brains she has, she cannot realize what’s right in front of her.”

“But you’re okay? From everything your parents said?” Hannah asked suddenly, worried.

“Of course,” Pansy shrugged, “It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before. They need to learn some new insults.”

Despite her brave words to Hannah, however, as Pansy lay in bed that night, the words echoed through her room.  _ Disappointment. You’re a disappointment. You’ll always be a disappointment. _


	14. Almost Didn’t Notice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, shoutout to my amazing beta FalconHonour, who constantly blows me away!

If, twelve months ago, you’d told Sirius Black, that in a year’s time, he would be in Malfoy Manor, downing whiskey with Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy and Hyperion Greengrass, while Narcissa Malfoy and Selene Greengrass sipped on their wine, he would have said that you were crazy. But here he was.

It was, of course, rocky to begin with. Tensions and emotions ran high and control ran low. Accusations were thrown about every which way, and decades-old conflicts were held up under a microscope and inspected for all to see. 

Sirius was distrustful of Lucius for his Death Eater activities, and the two sniped at each other until Narcissa got them both ridiculously drunk and made them talk about everything they had each gone through during the war. Four hours, three large bottles of firewhiskey, two sobbing men, and one long story of regret later, the two had come to understand each other. 

Hyperion and Sirius were a much easier matter. The two had never really interacted before, so there wasn’t any shared history or bad blood between the two, making the friendship much easier to build. Their shared love for Muggle music served as another boon to their growing relationship, something Selene teased the two over mercilessly. 

Severus and Sirius, however, were by far the worst. At first, the two flat-out refused to speak to each other, no matter how anyone cajoled them. In fact, it was quite likely that the only reason that neither of them had moved out of Malfoy Manor was that they didn’t want to give the other the satisfaction. 

Things remained that way until mid-June when Sirius was visited by Hermione. He had been lounging on the sofa with a glass of whiskey, when Hermione suddenly flopped into the large chair across from him and stared at him..

“Why don’t you and Professor Snape like each other?”

Sirius groaned. “Kitten-” Hermione bristled at the pet name. “-There’s a lot of bad blood between the two of us.”

“Can’t be that bad,” said Hermione.

“Besides the fact that my friends and I were at his throat the whole of Hogwarts-as he was at ours, I hasten to add - we almost got him eaten by a werewolf, who happened to be one of us.”

Hermione winced, and then paused, thinking for a moment. “Remus Lupin?”

Sirius blinked, “How’d you figure that out?”

“Well,” said Hermione, “You said that you were animagi with your friends. You were a Grimm, James Potter was a Stag, and Pettigrew was a rat. You never told us what Lupin was, and I can’t imagine you guys would leave him out. Plus his name is Remus Lupin, which is the most werewolf name I’ve ever heard. Remus, in Roman Mythology, was raised by a wolf, and Lupin comes from ‘lupinus’, which in Latin means ‘of a wolf.’ It’s like he was  _ supposed _ to become a werewolf, with a name like that. Maybe that’s what Lady Magic intended.”

“You think Lady Magic set him up to be fucked over?” Sirius’s voice was hard.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Merlin, you’re so overdramatic. And narrow-minded sometimes too. Being a werewolf isn’t a curse, it’s a blessing. It expands your lifespan, you heal much more quickly, you’re stronger and faster, and you’re guaranteed a soulmate. Sure, there’s a bunch of prejudiced berks out there that say that a werewolf is a ‘Dark Creature’, and it means that they shouldn’t be able to be a member of Wizarding society. Dumbledore actually  _ wrote _ most of those laws, you know. In fact, the transition isn’t even supposed to be painful but there was this curse placed on the entire species by Grindewald back at the turn of the century. Dark doesn’t mean bad, it’s just a kind of magic. It’s all about intent.”

Sirius had a strange look on his face, “You sound a lot like Regulus.”

Hermione shrugged. “Aunt Cissa always called him her smart cousin. Why  _ are  _ you so weird about Magic? You were raised to believe in it, weren’t you?”

Sirius snorted, “Of course I was. But when the person who taught it to you uses it to justify why she’s  _ crucio- _ ing you and trying to make you take the Dark Mark, you lose a bit of faith, to put it mildly. And then when Lady Magic is supposed to represent fairness and you get sent to prison for a decade for a murder you didn’t commit, well...”

Hermione winced, “Your mother was Walburga Black, wasn’t she?”

“Of course,” Sirius nodded, “My psycho bitch of a mother. The day she died was one of the best days I had in Azkaban. Did you ever meet her?”

“I did. Once. Draco, Daphne, Astoria and I had to go over to Grimmauld Place, and that was the first time I ever heard someone call a muggle born a-well, you know.”

“That’s my mother, all right.” Sirius raised his glass of whiskey in mock salute, before sighing, “When I went to Hogwarts, being in Slytherin represented everything she wanted me to be. Everything that I wasn’t. So everyone in Slytherin reminded me of home, of everything I’d come to Hogwarts to get away from. And Sni-Snape, well he was an easy target. He was rude and short-tempered, and best friends with the girl  _ my _ best mate was in love with.”

“So why don’t you apologise?”

“Pride, I guess,” said Sirius, “And he’d never forgive me, anyway. Not sure if I’d forgive him for what he did in the war either, or for how he and Lily ended.”

“Oh,” said Hermione, chewing her bottom lip, “I’m probably not supposed to tell you this... but...they never stopped being friends. Professor Snape and Lily Potter, I mean.”

Sirius looked at her, bewildered, “Of course they did. He called her a slur in front of everyone at the end of fifth year. The worst kind of slur, to boot.”

“I know. It was kind of set up so the rest of the Gryffindors would ease off on the fact that she was friends with a Slytherin. I mean, she was friends with a good chunk of the house, really.”

_ “What? _

“She was an Honorary Slytherin,” Hermione said, “So in Slytherin, we’ve got all these really little perks from being snakes. Secret rooms in the castle, tutoring sessions, supplementary textbooks that are dead useful, Prefects playing Cupid, you name it. There’s this whole voting system where a member of a different house can join in on these kinds of things. Like Hannah, my friend who’s in Hufflepuff. We got her voted in so she would be able to hang out in the common room with us. It just basically makes you a Slytherin as well to the rest of the house, with all the good and bad that comes with that.” 

By the end, Sirius was staring at the wall. “You can’t tell me that  _ everyone  _ in Slytherin liked her.”

“No, there were still some prejudiced berks, I’m sure, but once you’re in, you’re in,” Hermione said. “She even wrote one of my Slytherin exclusive books.”

“Was it to do with Charms?” asked Sirius, “She was always incredible at Charms.”

Hermione nodded, “I’ve brought it home with me. You can read it this summer, if you want..”

Sirius swallowed. “I’d like that.”

“One condition, though.” 

Sirius groaned. Hermione pointed to herself. 

“Slytherin, remember? Anyways, I’ll let you read the book if you sit down and make nice with Professor Snape. Deal?” She held out her hand to shake.

Sirius took her hand and shook it. “You drive a hard bargain, Kitten.”

“And you can’t call me Kitten, either!” Hermione scowled.

“It’s too late!” Sirius sprang to his feet, “That wasn’t part of the terms!”

“Sirius Black, you come back here!”   


* * *

Astoria Greengrass lounged on a branch of a willow tree, basking in the sunlight. The willow tree overlooked a small pond where water lilies grew from the deep end, pickerelweed and Blue Irises grew from the shallow end and cattails swayed in the warm summer breeze. Dragonflies circled around fat bumblebees that drank lazily from flowers, and the rustling of the wind mixed with the croaking of the frogs and the hum of the crickets in the late afternoon. Astoria held a lily-flower in the palm of her hand, concentrating on making it bloom and deflate, watching the petals open one by one before making them clam up and repeating the process again. 

Astoria was waiting for Daphne and Theo-it was their ‘secret spot’, one that Astoria had discovered when they were all home over spring break. She put the lily down as she heard their voices and footsteps approaching.

“Come  _ on _ , Theo! We’re almost there.” Daphne said.

“I know!” Astoria could practically hear the eye-roll in Theo’s voice.

They came into sight and settled at the crook of the tree, hands clasped.

“When we get married, I want to get married here.”

Daphne went bright pink and threw her arms around Theo before kissing him soundly on the lips. “Really? You think about that stuff too?”

Theo laughed and scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, I guess. I think more guys do than you think. Or at least more guys in Slytherin.”

Daphne giggled, “I don’t think Gryffindors think more than two minutes ahead, never mind seven years.”

“I think you’re giving them too much credit there. Well except for maybe Neville.”

“I can’t  _ believe  _ he has to room with Potter and  _ Weasley. _ Remember when Mia said that he was the only person with a clean part of the room? The only one with  _ books?”  _

“You’re still surprised by that?” Theo asked.

“I guess not,” said Daphne, “I mean it’s just that they’re so different from all of us. Even in the simplest things like  _ reading books _ . I mean you and Hermione are total bookworms-don’t argue, you know it’s true. I have my History books, and Draco’s like you and Mia, at least as far as Potions is concerned. Hannah adores her Charms, and Blaise has a thing for Art and Art History. Even ‘Stori’s got her fantasy novels. I can’t imagine not having a single book in your dormitory bookshelf.”

Theo shrugged, “I don’t understand them, and I don’t think I ever will.”

The two went silent and Astoria tried to shift positions to see what they were doing. They remained obscured from her vision, so Astoria decided to climb out towards the edge of the branch, the part that hung over the pond. When she peeked below the leaves, she saw that they were hugging each other  _ and  _ kissing  _ at the same time.  _ Which was  _ gross.  _ Suddenly, she got an idea. Astoria swung her legs over to the same side of the branch, and swung down, so that she was hanging upside down. 

“Daphne and Theo, sitting in a tree!” she sung, as Daphne and Theo jumped, startled. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Astoria!” Daphne yelled, as Astoria continued singing.

“First comes  _ loooooove _ !”

Theo smirked and whispered into Daphne’s ear, “I have an idea.”

“Then comes  _ marriage!” _

Theo discretely pulled out his wand.

“Then comes the-”

“ _ Titillando!”  _ Theo shouted, watching the hex leave his wand and hit Astoria, who started shrieking, and squirming away from the invisible hand tickling her, calling for Theo to stop. 

Daphne giggled, “That’s what you get for spying!”  
Astoria fell off the branch and into the pond, making a great big splash, before coming up for air, absolutely drenched. “Th- _eo_!”  
Theo and Daphne burst into laughter, before looking at each other, and holding hands, ran and jumped into the pond. Astoria burst into a fit of giggles.

“Aunt Cissa’s going to be  _ so  _ mad!” 

“She’ll get over it,” Daphne grinned, before grabbing her younger sister from the back and giving her a tight hug. 

“Also, since  _ when  _ do you two kiss each other?” Astoria scrunched her nose.

“Since October,” Theo said proudly.

“It’s  _ gross _ .”

“You wouldn’t have seen it if you weren’t spying, ‘Stori,” Daphne teased.

“Astoria, you need to stop spying on all of us!” The three turned to see Hermione, standing on the edge of the pond, with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “It’s a bad habit, you know.”

“It’s not _spying_ ,” Astoria sniffed, “It’s collecting information. And when did you get here?”  
Hermione shrugged, “I was trying to find you guys since Draco, Blaise and Pansy were starting a game of Quidditch. Hannah and I don’t like to play, and you need at least three people per team if you want to actually kind of play the game.”

“We can do that later,” Daphne said, “But we're taking a swim right now-you should come in, too!”

Hermione shook her head, “No, I don’t want to get wet!”

“Boooooo,” called Theo, “You know you want to!”

“Please?” Astoria dragged out the word and put on her best puppy-dog eyes.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, “I guess.” She then took a running leap into the deep end of the pond, making as big a splash as she could, before her head came bobbing up. “It’s nice in here today.”

“See!” said Daphne, “Aren’t you glad you joined?”

Hermione smiled, “Sure, I guess.” She turned her attention to Astoria. “So what information did you gather, then, in your definitely-not-spying?”  
“Well,” Astoria dragged out the word, “I learned that Gryffindors don’t read. Oh, and that Theo and Daphne want to get _married_ here, which is like forever and a half away, so I don’t even know why they’re talking about that yet.”

“Because it’s fun!” Daphne giggled. “Mia will be my Maid of Honour, and Draco can be Theo’s Best Man, and the elves will bake the biggest cake anyone’s ever seen.”

“Does Theo get to make any of the decisions in this?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Theo laughed, “You and I both know that Daphne’s not going to be in charge, either. It’s going to be Narcissa and Selene doing everything. I bet they probably already have it planned out.”

“Oh, they’ll have had our wedding planned to within an inch of its life ever since everyone found out we had a soulbond,” Daphne rolled her eyes, then blushed, “You know, sometimes I’m really glad that I know that it’s you, and that we don’t have to go through a ton of stuff and figuring out just for the same ending.”

“Especially with what Mia and Draco have to go through,” said Theo, knowingly.

“Me and Draco?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “What about us?”

Theo and Daphne looked at each other and laughed, before turning back to Hermione. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,  _ I  _ don’t know what you guys are talking about either,” Astoria moaned. “Can you tell  _ me _ , Daphne? Please?”

“When you’re older,” Daphne smirked, “I thought boys were icky, though?”

“Of course!” Astoria looked at Daphne like she was crazy. “And anyways, if all we’re going to talk about is  _ love  _ and  _ boys _ ,” she made a face, “No offence, Theo-” she added, “I’m going to go play some Quidditch.”

Theo grinned, “No offence taken, ‘Stori. Let’s go play some Quidditch.”

* * *

Hermione looked at the Second-Year book list over Daphne’s shoulder and groaned, as she read it.

_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2  _ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_ Holidays with Hags  _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_ Travels with Trolls _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_ Voyages with Vampires  _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_ Wanderings with Werewolves  _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_ Year with the Yeti  _ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Daphne let out a slightly muted scream, “Gilderoy  _ Lockhart? _ We have to get books by  _ Gilderoy Lockhart?  _ The  _ fraud?” _

“Daphne, darling, you’ve got to be joking,” Selene said, before plucking the list from Daphne’s hands, reading it quickly, and then breathing very heavily out of her nose. Hermione and Hyperion exchanged a long-suffering look. 

Selene and Daphne both  _ hated  _ Gilderoy Lockhart with a passion, though for different reasons. For Daphne, it started when she had picked up one of his books written about the events of the Vampire-Werewolf war of 1985. She had quickly discovered that the book was riddled with historical inaccuracies, missing dates, and incorrect details. But the worst offence had been Lockhart’s claim to be part of the peace talks. Daphne, of course, had known upon reading it that that was completely false. She and Grandmere had followed the events together, thoroughly documenting and detailing every news article, and had gotten in contact with everyone involved that they could. This had  _ not  _ included Lockhart, as he hadn’t even been remotely involved, let alone been part of the  _ peace talks. _ Despite only being seven or so at the time, Daphne had then dug into every single book he had ever written, disproving each one, with a massive timeline of when he said each event had happened, and how it was quite literally impossible for him to have done any of this, given the massively conflicting dates. Her efforts had spanned a ten-foot roll of parchment. It had been the one time in their childhood that she’d written more than Hermione on a subject.

Selene, on the other hand, hated Lockhart for other reasons. Mainly because he had had a crush on one of her friends back in school, which had bordered on obsessive. He would often try and sit at the Slytherin table- uninvited, and unwanted - trying to impress them with his ludicrous tales. She had once remarked that she had no idea how he’d gotten into Ravenclaw, as, as far as she could tell, he’d been the dumbest student to walk through the halls of Hogwarts. The friend that had been the subject of the crush, which had spanned seven excruciatingly long years, even though she was  _ betrothed _ , was none other than Narcissa Black Malfoy.

“Is the new Professor just a fan of his, do you think, or is it  _ actually  _ Gilderoy Lockhart himself?” Hermione asked.

“That’s an Uncle Lucius question,” Astoria piped up, blueberry muffin in hand. “If he is, that really sounds like no fun for you guys. Maybe it’s good that I’m not starting Hogwarts until next year.”

* * *

Hermione smiled brightly as she reached her favourite spot in the whole entire world. It was a large white gazebo on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, one that stood proudly in front of a field of sunflowers. It was bright and it was happy and it was warm.

She took out  _ Hogwarts: A History,  _ and opened it to page one and started reading. 

Draco found her there a couple of hours later. He looked at the book she was reading and smirked. “Is this the new 1992 edition?”

Hermione smiled at him. “Of course!”

“Go on then. What are the differences this year?” 

“Well,” said Hermione, “They cut out a page on the kitchens, which was quite necessary in my opinion. The kitchen section already had three pages. And they added half a page to Salazar Slytherin’s miniature biography within the book, as well as expanding Rowena Ravenclaw’s. It also reinstated the Come-And-Go room part, which had been taken out back in the seventies edition.” She smirked at him. “You know, I’m almost glad nobody else reads this. There’s a whole lot of Hogwarts secrets that other people could find out just by reading it, and we get them all to ourselves.”

“Like the secret back entrance to the Restricted section?”

Hermione nodded, before getting an idea. “Oh! Let’s go look at the sunflower field, since they’re blooming” She tugged Draco by the arm. “Come on!” She spread out her arms looking at the sunflower field. “It’s so pretty.”

Draco looked at her, and nodded. “It is.”

“You know,” Hermione said, “Daphne was telling me about the history of the Manor, and apparently this sunflower field and the gazebo have been here since the 1500s. Apparently, they were a wedding gift from Maximillian Malfoy to Trillia Greengrass, when they got married. I think it’s my favourite spot in the whole world.” She beamed at the sunflowers smiling back at her, and grabbed Draco’s hand. “Come on, let’s go find the tallest sunflower this year!”

* * *

Hermione, Daphne, and Theo strolled down Diagon Alley with the Malfoys. Hyperion and Selene were in Cyprus for a long weekend, just the two of them, and Astoria was staying with one of her friends, so Hermione and Daphne were doing their back-to-school shopping with their godparents.

It was a warm and busy August afternoon, with Wizards and Witches bustling all over the place, most of them making a point to say hello to Lucius Malfoy. After stopping at Amanuensis Quills for parchment, ink, and a new array of quills, Twilfitt and Tattings for some new clothing, as well as Madame Malkins for school robes - in the latest style, naturally - and various other stores for odds and ends, the group ended up at Flourish and Blotts, where there was a large crowd around the door, above the windows, a large banner reading  _ “GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography _

_ MAGICAL ME today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m” _ .

Of course, most of the crowd parted ways for them to walk through. With Lucius Malfoy leading the way, crowds were rarely an issue. 

A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, “Calmly, please, ladies. . . . Don’t push, there . . . mind the books, now. . . Oh! Lucius, old chap, is that you? Haven’t seen you since Hogwarts.”

Lucius smiled widely, “Ah, Henry Falkins! Do you need any help with the crowd?” The man nodded gratefully, and Lucius took a step up to where Falkins was standing on a raised platform. “Ladies!” he called out, and the crowd quieted, “There’s more than enough time, I assure you. Henry Falkins over here is an old friend of mine, and I know that he’ll be able to ensure you’re all able to get what you want, as long as you stay calm and quiet. Thank you.” He smiled again, and the crowd calmed instantly. With a half-bow and a wave to Henry to carry on, Lucius stepped down from the platform and offered his arm to Narcissa before walking through the doors.

“You think you’ll be able to do that one day?” Theo nudged Draco.

“Of course he will,” Hermione said, confidently, “He’s already more than halfway there. He could sell a house-elf clothes.”

Draco grinned, “Thanks, Mia.” They heard a yelp and all turned to the source of noise-Ronald Weasley, clutching his foot which had been stepped on by the Prophet’s photographer.

Suddenly, Gilderoy Lockhart, who had been sitting in the back of the room, signing copies of his book, jumped to his feet. “It  _ can’t  _ be Harry Potter?” Lockhart then proceeded to parade Potter around like a show-horse, around the room, shaking his hand and smiling. “ _ And  _ the lovely Narcissa Black!”

Narcissa’s smile was pinched, and her tone could have frosted glass as she replied, “Narcissa  _ Malfoy _ , Gilderoy. Surely you remember my marriage to Lucius?”

Gilderoy grinned, turning to the room and announcing loudly, “Narcissa and I go way back-all the way to Hogwarts, in fact! Speaking of Hogwarts, this is the perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —” The crowd applauded again. “He had no idea, ” Lockhart continued, giving Potter a little shake, as Draco smirked, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book,  _ Magical Me. _ He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the  _ real _ magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

“No!” cried Daphne.

Lockhart turned to her, mistaking the nature of Daphne’s cry. “Why, yes! It’s true!” He then continued parading Potter around the room, throwing a wink at Narcissa as he went, and then sat himself back at his table, and continued signing his books. 

“Come on,” said Hermione, “Let’s not waste anymore time on him. I’m going to go look at Transfiguration Theory, if any of you want to come.” She walked to the back of the store, towards her favorite section of books-transfiguration theory. And  _ of course. _ Of  _ course  _ that was where the Weasleys and Potter were. 

“Potter, Weasley,” she nodded at them. “May I please see the bookshelf that you’re blocking?”

They sneered at her but let her through. Hermione crouched to start looking at the books on the bottom shelf when she noticed a red-haired girl flipping through a book on Charms. Their eyes connected, and Hermione felt something in the back of her head-the same thing that happened every time she did a new spell, whispering  _ friend _ .

She smiled at the girl. “Hi, I’m Hermione Greengrass.”

The girl smiled at her tentatively, “Ginny Weasley.”

“Are you going into first year this year?” Hermione asked kindly. Ginny nodded. “What are you reading?” 

Ginny blushed pink before showing her the cover.  _ Charms-From A-Z _ “I’ve always thought Charms sounded pretty cool.”

“Oh, I love Charms. Professor Flitwick is really nice. Do you know what house you want to be Sorted into?” 

Ginny went red, before Weasley inserted his opinion. “She’ll be in Gryffindor, of course! What kind of a question  _ is  _ that, Greengrass?”

Hermione looked back at the girl who looked a bit like deer in headlights. Hermione smiled sweetly at Weasley. “She’ll be in whatever house she fits into the most. Whether that be Gryffindor, Slytheirn, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw.”

“Are you in Slytherin?” 

Surprised to hear Ginny speaking up in front of her brutish brother, Hermione nodded, “Yeah, and so are a bunch of my friends, but I’m friends with a bunch of people in the other houses too.”

“Even Gryffindor?”

Hermione hesitated, torn between the temptation of scorning Gryffindor in front of Weasley and not disappointing the younger girl who was looking at her wide-eyed,“I’m friends with Neville Longbottom,” she said at last, “ If you end up going there, I can be friends with you too, if that’s what you want.”

Ginny beamed. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, was spitting mad. “Like  _ hell  _ you will! You can’t be friends with my little sister.”

Hermione leveled a glare at him, “Why not?”

“Because she’ll be in Gryffindor!”

“And? I have friends in Gryffindor. I don’t let Houses dictate who I’m friends with.”

Potter laughed a bit harshly, “Then why aren’t you friends with  _ us?”  _

“Like you’d want to be friends,” Hermione snorted, “And anyway, I  _ tried  _ that. I was perfectly nice to the both of you until you started insulting me and my friends and called us names.”

“Like we said anything that wasn’t true,” Potter retorted. 

Hermione’s voice went ice cold. “You don’t know me. Don’t  _ pretend  _ to know what I’m like, Potter, because you don’t. You don’t know what _ any _ of us are like, because all you do is make baseless assumptions because of the color that we wear.” She turned to Ginny, and softened her tone. “Ginny, if you want to, come and find me at Hogwarts. And don’t let whatever your brother says colour how you think about Slytherin. It’s a fantastic house, and you’d be a great addition to it.” She turned to storm off, but she saw Draco walking over. She gestured to Ginny and mouthed,  _ ‘Be nice.’ _

Draco flashed her a grin, before sneering at the Gryffindors. “Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter. Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page. You and Lockhart are going to be best mates this year, I’m sure. Weasel, are you ready to be thrown over for a thirty-five year old git?” 

Potter and Weasley were saved from responding when Arthur Weasley came around the bend. “Ron! What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.” 

“Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley.” Lucius somehow managed to appear out of thin air, behind Draco, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Lucius,” said Arthur Weasley, nodding coldly. 

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Lucius. “All those raids . . . I hope they’re paying you overtime?” He glanced over the man’s shabby robes. “Obviously not.” He noticed Ginny. “Ginevra Weasley, isn’t it?” Ginny nodded timidly. “It seems my goddaughter has taken a liking to you. When you get to Hogwarts, let me know, and I’ll find you some…  _ nicer  _ supplies. Especially if you’re in Slytherin.” He paused. “I know Hermione well enough to know she has a good feeling about you, even from this short meeting, and she’s got some rather keen instincts.” He offered the girl a smile, and Ginny smiled back hopefully.

“Traitor,” Ron hissed.

Hermione’s eyes flashed. For some reason-she couldn’t quite put her finger on it-she felt  _ good  _ about Ginny, like she was someone that was supposed to be in her life. “Just because you’re jealous that your sister has caught a sponsor’s attention, it doesn’t make her a traitor. Does it, Uncle Lucius?” She added, turning her most innocent eyes on the older man.

Lucius smirked, catching on to her game instantly. “It does seem that we have different definitions of ‘traitors,’ Hermione darling,” he drawled. “Arthur, your  _ father,  _ for ex-”

Arthur Weasely flung himself at Lucius, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Heavy spellbooks came tumbling down and Narcissa, who had come out of seemingly nowhere, shouted a spell, causing the books to freeze mid-air. 

“Arthur Weasley!” Narcissa cried out, “How  _ dare  _ you attack my husband, in a  _ bookshop _ , where our children are going back-to-school shopping! Have you no shame?  _ Especially  _ right in front of their brand-new teacher at his signing? Gilderoy,” she turned with a simpering smile, “Although it is not incumbent upon me to do so, allow me to extend a general apology for the disruption of your book signing. And Henry, dear, allow us to cover any expenses incurred by Arthur Weasley’s…” she searched for a word, “brawling.” She flashed a butter-won’t-melt smile at everyone. “Hermione, Draco, darlings, give Lucius the books you wanted to purchase and run along with Daphne and Theo to the ice-cream parlour. We’ll be there momentarily.”

As Draco and Hermione dashed off, Lucius started playing politician, spinning the altercation in the worst possible way for Weasleys to everyone from the Daily Prophet Reporter to the store owner and the crowds, smiling as his charm worked flawlessly. Narcissa, in the meanwhile, went up and quietly introduced herself to Ginny Weasley, making sure the girl wasn’t hurt in the chaos in any way, shape, or form and also offering further assistance in  _ “anything she needed or wanted, darling,” _ that year. 

And, in the chaos of the moment, not a single soul noticed a small leather-bound diary fall out of Lucius Malfoy’s coat-a diary intended to be taken to Borgin and Burkes, a diary that was noticed by no-one, in fact, other than Percy Weasley, who picked up the diary, looked at it curiously and slipped it into his pocket.


	15. Never Be The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my beta FalconHonour for beta-ing my work!

Hermione lounged in the eight person cabin on the train, stretching like a cat in the sun. “Second year!” she announced, excitedly to everyone in the compartment. 

Hannah grinned, “I’m excited! We’ll have a whole new bunch of people to meet this year.”

Pansy smirked. “ _ I’m  _ excited we’re not the youngest in the castle anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” Blaise teased “ _ My  _ birthday’s September 4th, so I’ve never been close to being the youngest in the castle, Miss  _ August 5th. _ ”

“And yet with the way you act, you’d think our ages were switched.”

“Well  _ my  _ birthday is December 12th,” said Hermione, “Which is a very nice birthday. It always snows.” 

Daphne grinned. “What are the chances? My birthday is December 12th as well!” 

Hermione shoved her sister lightly, rolling her eyes.

“Look!” said Draco, pointing out the window towards the platform. And there it was. The Weasleys came scrambling through the Muggle entrance to the platform, one by one. “Why didn’t they Floo in?” Draco asked. He didn’t get an answer. The rest of the compartment just shook their heads in confusion. 

Pansy grabbed the ledger they used for betting among themselves. “That’s Percy Weasley, the twins, new girl Weasley…” She trailed off, waiting for Ron Weasley and Potter to come through the barrier. But they didn’t. In fact, the Weasleys that  _ were  _ there only  _ just  _ made it onto the train in time. “Alright there, Draco!” said Pansy, “You owe Daphne five galleons.”

Draco rolled his eyes before grabbing five galleons and handing it over to a smug looking Daphne. “By the way,” she said, “I’m looking forward to beating  _ all  _ of you again this year.”

Draco groaned. “No fair! I didn’t know we’d be using Dobby for revenge!” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Mother and Father decided to seal off the platform with help from Dobby. He’s also apparently going to be doing some  _ other  _ things this year. On a completely unrelated note, did you know that Potter got a warning from the Misuse of Magic office for blowing up his aunt?”

* * *

Hermione eyed the new first years with interest. She smiled when she saw Ginny and gave her a discreet wave. The red-headed girl smiled back strongly at her, seemingly much more confident than she had been in the bookstore. 

Daphne nudged her arm. “Who are you looking at?”

“Ginny Weasley. I met her in Flourish and Blotts, and I’ve got a good feeling about her. Uncle Lucius said he would sponsor her if she got into Slytherin.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You know he only said that to wind Mr. Weasley up. She’s a Weasley, she’ll be in Gryffindor.”

“I’m not so sure,” Hermione murmured, “I’ve got a feeling about her. Ten galleons?”

“Sure. Anyways, Potter and Weasley-Ron Weasley-still aren’t here. And I asked Carrine about it when we got here, and she heard that they  _ flew  _ to school. Like in a car.”

“I thought Muggle cars don’t fly?”

“Yeah, but this one was probably altered by Arthur Weasley. I mean he’s the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department-I don’t think anyone else would know how to do it.”

Hermione gasped, “Isn’t that department for making sure people  _ don’t  _ alter Muggle things with magic? Did Ron Weasley just make his father likely to lose his job?”

“Well, given Arthur Weasley created a flying car without telling the Ministry, and was then dumb enough to let his own son drop himself in it, he kind of brought it on himself,” Pansy inserted. “I always say it’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

“Pansy!”

“Well, I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Stop it,” Daphne hissed, “The sorting’s about to start.”

The Sorting Hat began singing a song, something about the Founder’s values and some long-winded story, but Hermione wasn’t paying attention. She continued looking at the incoming first years, analyzing them. She knew a handful by name, and a few more by sight, but there were some that were complete strangers to her. This new year was a little on the small side, much like Hermione’s class. 

_ “Being in the middle of a war probably doesn’t encourage you to start a family,” _ Hermione thought to herself with a laugh. It was easy enough to work out, given the vastly different class sizes between the years. The fifth year class was more than double the size of Hermione’s. The class of fourth years was about one and a half times bigger. Even the third years had about seven or eight more students than the second years. The new first year class was about the same size as her own, but she wouldn’t be surprised if next year’s first year class was much, much larger, maybe even the size of her year, due to the baby boom that had taken place after the war.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall calling “ALTON, PAMELA!”, who was sorted quickly into Ravenclaw. 

Hermione twirled a strand of her hair as the sorting continued. Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryfindor, Ravenclaw...on and on it went. The first Slytherin was Kevin Bletchley, a cousin of Miles Bletchley, and he was followed by a pair of twins-Flora and Hestia Carrow. A red-faced Turner Higgs was sorted into Slytherin, which was met with uproarious cheers from the Slytherin table for getting the former Head Boy’s nephew in their house. The next new members of Slytherin were Melissa Horton, Byron Miller, Cole Spencer and then Bronwyn Trigg. And then-

“WEASLEY, GINEVRA” 

The red-haired girl looked cautiously confident as she walked up to the Sorting Hat and jammed it on her head, squeezing her eyes shut. And then there was silence.

There was silence for so long that people started murmuring. A Weasley that wasn’t a clear-cut Gryffindor? That was almost unheard of!

“SLYTHERIN!” Cried the sorting hat. Ginny took the hat off her head amidst complete and utter silence. Professor McGonagall looked shocked. Professor Snape looked intrigued. Dumbledore’s glasses had fallen off his nose. 

In the din of silence, Hermione looked around. Her eyes locked with one of the Weasley twins across the room. He gave her a little smile, before he and his twin stood up and started whooping. 

“Yeah, Ginny!” The cry echoed through the Great Hall.

Hermione looked at the girl, who was still standing by the Sorting Hat, looking a little more sure of herself, but still seeming nervous. Hermione got to her feet and started clapping. She was quickly joined by Draco and Daphne, then by Carrine and Thomas and Blaise and Theo, and then Pansy got onto her feet and started clapping as well. It spread and spread, until the entire Slytherin table was on their feet, clapping and cheering for Ginny Weasley. 

Ginny broke into a wide smile and rushed to the Slytherin table as Hermione waved her over to sit between the second and first years. 

“Hi,” Ginny smiled, waving to the rest of the group. “I’m Ginny Weasley. If you call me Ginevra I’ll hex your nose off,  _ and _ set the twins on you.”

She took a deep breath. “I get that I’m a Weasley and we’ve never really been sorted into Slytherin before. I get our families might not even get along, but I’m here to stay so get used to it. Alright?” She stared unflinchingly into each person’s eyes, daring them to have a problem with her. 

Pansy’s eyes sparkled and she burst into laughter. “Oh, Hermione, I  _ like  _ her.”

* * *

Throughout dinner, Ginny relaxed, and found herself enjoying everyone’s company. Even Draco Malfoy’s, which was something of a surprise, what with the whole Blood Feud between their families. He seemed pretty nice, considering, albeit a bit snarky, but he seemed like he would be a pretty good friend, at least in the long run. But the most interesting part was how he was obviously stupidly and  _ ridiculously  _ in love with Hermione Greengrass. She tucked that piece of information away in her brain as something to blackmail him with if he tried to back out of helping her just because she was a Weasley. 

Not that she was going to ask to have the finest school supplies or robes made off the runway from Paris, like everyone else in Slytherin seemingly wore, but her books were horrendously out of date. Her History of Magic book that cut off before the turn of the 19th century for heaven’s sake! Her Transfiguration book was missing entire sections because the pages had fallen out. Moreover, most of her robes used to be her mother’s when  _ she’d  _ attended Hogwarts and were now holding together by the seams. Even her wand had been her grandmother’s. Oh, it worked alright, she supposed, but everyone knew that if you wanted to be good, you needed to have your  _ own  _ wand. One that  _ chose _ you. And her quills-even her quills were shabby, and worn around the edges, with nibs that had been warped by Ron’s heavy handed writing, or Percy’s stress nibbling. 

She always felt a little bad when she complained inside her head about her worn items-almost like Ron, really, which was not her most favorite thing to think about-but sometimes it just felt unfair. Like when Dad bought a vintage Ford Angelina Muggle car for the sake of it, so he could tinker around with it. He had spent something like 1,500 galleons on the car, just before the end of last school year. Yet, when school-time rolled around, there was no money for supplies. And how Mum insisted on visiting Charlie and Bill at least once a year each, even if it was just her and Dad who went. There simply wasn’t the money for it - not to visit two faraway countries each year, and then to buy any of the Weasleys new robes, especially not for Ginny, the youngest. She didn’t own a single bit of clothing that wasn’t at least quadruple her age. 

It wasn’t easy to feel guilty about these kinds of thoughts, after she’d begged Mum for just  _ one  _ new pair of school robes, just  _ one  _ that was all her own, and Mum had looked at her in the middle of Diagon Alley and said, “Ginevra! You know we don’t have the money for that. You know better than to ask for those kinds of things!” Ginny always hated it when Mum called her Ginevra. 

But if it led to her getting the first things of her life that were brand new and her very own, Ginny would very much make nice with the Malfoys, even though Dad came home from work complaining about Mr. Malfoy almost every day. 

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had never done anything to her specifically, and they had been very nice to her in Diagon Alley, especially Mrs. Malfoy worrying over her after the brawl Dad and Mr. Malfoy had gotten into. Why, she’d even kissed her on the cheeks like Ginny always imagined the French did. She’d always dreamed of going to France, or somewhere faraway. She never got to visit Bill and Charlie when Mum and Dad went to visit them. 

Mum had always wanted a girl. She had kept on trying and trying and trying, until Ginny had been born. Had more children than their family could afford with the spending habits of her parents, just to have a girl. And so Ginny always needed to be exactly what her mother wanted her to be. Mum wanted her to be just like her. Get married straight out of Hogwarts. Start a big family. Listen to Celestina Warbeck while she cooked something, with kids screaming and fighting in the next room over. 

But Ginny wasn’t even sure she  _ wanted  _ kids. Maybe one. But definitely no more than one.. She wanted to play Quidditch, professionally. She knew she could do it. After all, Charlie had been talent-spotted for England. He might have turned it down in favour of working with dragons in Romania, but he had taught Ginny everything she (and he) knew. Fred and George were fantastic beaters, and ace at flying, and she had played Quidditch with them more times than anyone could ever hope to count. Ginny was an  _ excellent  _ Chaser, if she did say so herself. Okay, maybe that was distorted because Ron was a poor Keeper at best, but when Bill came home and would play a game, he’d be Keeper, as he’d been on the Gryffindor team for a year or two back in Hogwarts, and Ginny still scored really well against him. That was the kind of thing that gave her hope that  _ maybe,  _ just  _ maybe  _ she could be more than what Mum wanted her to be. That she could be what  _ she  _ wanted to be. And Merlin-be-damned if she was going to let anyone get in her way. She would do  _ anything  _ to be whoever she wanted to be. Anything. Even get sorted into Slytherin, the House she wanted to be in, the House she  _ fit in _ , instead of Gryffindor. Even though that might bring down Ron’s wrath on her and maybe Percy’s, and probably Mum and Dad’s too. Even if it meant Harry Potter would dislike her, a thought that would’ve made her burst into tears six months ago.

Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. The boy with more cracks in his image with every day that passed. There was another large crack in his image following their Diagon Alley visit. She had  _ seen  _ his Gringotts account,, filled to the brim with glittering gold -and that wasn’t even his _ main _ account. And then he got a brand new copy of all of Lockhart’s books for free. And he kept them. As if he couldn’t have afforded them himself. He had seen her tattered books, and had frowned at her in Flourish and Blotts, as if to say, “I’m sorry, that must really suck.” yet he had done  _ nothing  _ about it. What’s worse was that he had spent  _ double  _ the cost of her entire school supplies (although that wasn’t saying much) on  _ ice cream _ for him and Ron. But no. Harry Potter, who had stayed with them half of the summer, eating as much food as Ron and not once helping with the chores, didn’t even think to buy her just  _ one  _ new book, or even pass down his school books from last year which were only a year old, as opposed to hers, which were decades old.

But what had caused the final break with Harry Potter? What had shattered his entire image, what had made Ginny-dare she say it-almost  _ dislike  _ him? It was after Flourish and Blotts. After Mr. Malfoy had offered to buy her new supplies. 

Ron had looked at her and told her that she couldn’t accept money from a Malfoy. She could never be sponsored by a Malfoy. Ginny had shouted back, screaming about how badly she wanted her very own wand. Just her wand. Just  _ one  _ thing that was hers. That was the final breaking point. 

And why was that? It was because Harry Potter, defender of all that is good and righteous, stood back, and said nothing. He even nodded along to what Ron was saying. And with that nod, with that  _ nothing,  _ Ginny’s heart had broken into a million pieces. 

To make matters worse, when Mum had looked at her with disgust when Ginny had tried to defend Hermione and the Malfoys to her and Dad, right in front of the entire family, before the twins set off some fireworks in the other room, Ron and Harry had just stood by and  _ glared  _ at her.

Ginny had cried that night, that whole night. Hadn’t gone down for dinner, hadn’t let anyone into her room, not even the twins. And she vowed to herself that she would  _ never ever  _ idolize somebody who couldn’t care less about her,  _ never ever  _ try and befriend someone who looked at her like there was something wrong with her,  _ never ever  _ try and impress a boy who had all the means to help her, just the littlest bit, and just stood there. Stood there and did nothing.

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room, waiting for the first year Slytherins to arrive. The common room was alight with arguments over the recent sorting.

“She’s a  _ Weasley!  _ She  _ can’t  _ stay.”

“She got sorted into Slytherin, just like the rest of us!”

“She  _ is  _ the first female Weasley in generations and the seventh child. Seven is a magical number according to Professor Trelawney…”

“Oh shut  _ up  _ Maureen, we all know Divination is a load of shite-”

“It is not!”

“Is too!”

“Silence!” Snape shouted, and the room quieted immediately. “The first years are almost here. We will be discussing Miss Weasley  _ then. _ ”

As if on cue, the newest Prefects entered the common room, followed by the new Slytherins. Ginny Weasley walked in, shoulders set back and head held high.

Snape began, “It appears we have had a Weasley sorted into our house. I know that some of you may have… issues with Miss Ginevra Weasley, but I  _ must  _ remind you all that she is a Slytherin, and you must treat her as such.” He cast a pointed look around the room. 

“Ginny,” Ginny said firmly, “ _ Don’t  _ call me Ginevra.”

“Or what?” came a third-year from the crowd.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed, before she cast an absolutely vicious Bat-Bogey hex, causing the third-year to yelp in pain. Hermione’s laugh rang out through the common room, before she turned to Daphne. “I  _ told  _ you I had a good feeling about her.”

Pansy spoke loud enough for everyone to hear her, “ _ I  _ don’t have a problem with her being in Slytherin, as long as she learns what she missed out on, growing up.”

Ginny looked a bit confused, but nodded her head. 

“You know, you can’t make us lay off your brothers,” said a sixth year.

Ginny snorted, “I know. Ron and Percy have nothing but bad things to say about you all, I can’t imagine you just lying down and taking it. But Fred and George are great, if you just give them a chance.”

“Good,” said Draco, “Because I’m not planning on letting Weasley be a right wanker to Hermione without saying anything.”

“Language,” Hermione scolded.

As Professor Snape went on to list the house rules, Hermione watched Ginny carefully. Ginny was focused on Snape’s words, drinking them in like a man drank water at a desert oasis. As Hermione looked over the girl, she felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Her robes were terribly old, something you could easily tell just by looking at them, and her shoes were worn beyond belief. She began mentally penning a letter to Aunt Cissa asking her to whisk the poor girl out of school and take her shopping for some new robes and school supplies. If her robes were any indication of the state of what her parents had given her, she’d be eaten alive in the Snake Pit, Hermione and Pansy’s support or not.

As Professor Snape’s speech wrapped up, Ginny turned to Hermione and pointed at the cage in which Cheddar was racing around.

“Is that...Scabbers?”

“Yes and no,” Hermione laughed. “I guess we have  _ quite  _ the story to tell you about that.”

Ginny nodded, satisfied, and walked over to where the fifth year Prefects were rounding up the new first years. Hermione smiled at the girls back and sprang to her feet. She grabbed Draco by the arm, and dragged him out of the common room. 

“Come on, we need to get to the Owlery. We have a letter to write.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been stuck with writer's block on Chapter 19 for ages, but I finally got the writing bug yesterday and was able to finish it up and then write Chapters 20 & 21 as well!
> 
> Comments & Reviews always brighten my day/week, so if you enjoyed the chapter, let me know! 
> 
> Also! Check out some of my thoughts on the characters in my tumblr-just posted something that goes in depth into a bit of the psychology and motivations behind certain characters-especially Harry, for those of you who wonder why he sticks with Ron so much (Don't worry, I'm just as annoyed by it as you all are lol, but it's necessary for the plot)


	16. Burnt Toast Sundays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my incredible beta, FalconHonour.
> 
> TW: Parental verbal abuse and disownment.

Hermione sat down for her first breakfast as a Second Year. Reaching out absently, she grabbed a piece of French Toast at the same time as Ginny Weasley. They looked up at each other and giggled, before each grabbing a separate piece of toast. The red-head looked up at Hermione, contemplating something, before taking a bite of toast.

“You said you had a good feeling about me last night.” 

The way that Ginny said it was part question, part statement.

Hermione nodded, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a story, but we’ve got time. That is, if you want to hear it?” Ginny gestured for her to continue. “You know all the stuff you were told about Magic last night? I mean, I know they couldn’t tell you absolutely everything, but what they did...did you… believe in any of it?”

Ginny grinned. “Yeah, I thought it was really cool. It’s a lot to take in but it kind of makes sense…I dunno, magic’s always felt a bit like…” she trailed off, searching for an explanation. “Whenever I did accidental magic, I could always _feel_ the magic right before something happened. And Fred and George taught me some hexes on the train ride. I could feel the magic then, too. Actually, in some ways, I can feel it in the air all the time. Not much, but it’s there. It’s kind of like a shifting mood, if you know what I mean. Does that make sense?” 

“Sure,” said Hermione, “There aren’t many people who can _feel_ magic, but it’s well documented that some can. Things like that aren’t actually that uncommon. I mean, just looking at my own year,Theo and Daphne have a soulbond. And I’ve got something too, but it’s a little bit weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last Samhain, there was a troll that got into the castle. My friend Hannah and I were in a bathroom, because she was upset about something-” she paused, “something that someone had said to her.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, “By somebody, do you mean Ron?”

Hermione grimaced, “Yeah. So we were in there during the Samhain feast, so we missed the memo that there was a troll in Hogwarts. It ended up wandering into the bathroom we were in, and we...defeated it, for lack of a better term. During the fight, I was casting spells I didn’t know. They were just coming out of the back of my head. And then I realised it happens in class too -I always get the spells on the first try, but it’s not just because of skill. It’s because there’s something in the back of my mind that, I suppose you could say, guides me in what to do. I guess I just kind of follow it whenever it pops up. When I saw you for the first time I felt a connection with you. There was something telling me that you were a friend.” Hermione shrugged. “So I followed it.”

Ginny smiled, “Well I’m glad you did.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Pansy slid into her seat, swiping an orange off Daphne’s plate. Daphne, who had just sat down too, glared at her friend, but said nothing as the dark-haired girl turned to Ginny, “Weasley. Where’d you learn the hex you hit Montague with last night?”

“On the Hogwarts Express. Fred and George taught me.”

Pansy drank her coffee, sizing Ginny up for a moment, “You want to learn more?”

There was a hint of challenge in her tone and Ginny answered it with a lift of her chin, “Sure.”

Pansy stared back. “What do I get out of it?”

Ginny tilted her head, “Insider information on something happening to Ron this morning.”

Pansy cracked a smile, and started laughing, “You’re a firstie after my own heart! Call me Pansy.”

“Then you can call me Ginny,” the younger red-head replied. 

Just then, Theo, Blaise and Draco came and sat in their spots. Draco tossed a glance at Hermione after seeing where Ginny had seated herself. Hermione flashed him a smile. 

“Is that everyone here?” Ginny asked. Upon receiving Hermione’s nod, she looked around, and then smirked. “ _So_ , Ron and Harry took Dad’s modified Ford Angelina to Hogwarts after missing the Express. Professor Snape told me that they weren’t expelled-” the table groaned, “But they’ve both got loads of detention and Dumbledore wrote to their families last night. So that means that Mum knows, and she’ll be _mad_. She’s bound to send a Howler.”

Draco looked delighted, “There’s the mail arriving now!”

The owls flew in, and sure enough, a red envelope was delivered to the Gryffindor. 

“— STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —” 

The boys looked as if Yule had come early, and Theo was frantically writing down each word that came from the screeching letter.

“— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —”

“Oh sure,” muttered Ginny, “Let _Harry_ get away with everything. Like he did this summer.” Hermione looked at her curiously, but she shook her head, “Later.”

“— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

The entire table of Slytherin burst into laughter-even Ginny. Hannah-and numerous other members of Hufflepuff - had their lips pressed together, like they were trying to hold in laughter. Titters escaped from Ravenclaw, and the way the Weasley twins were acting over at the Gryffindor table, it was as if they had been told the funniest joke of all time. The laughter eventually died down, and the chatter returned, with a noticeable uptick in mentions of the names ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Ron Weasley’. 

The group of Slytherins then took to opening their letters and parcels from home. Draco grinned at his assortment of candies, reading through a letter from his parents, and holding an unopened letter addressed to a _‘Ginny Weasley’_ , written in Narcissa’s loopy script. Speaking of Ginny, Hermione looked over to the girl to see her staring at a letter, ashen-faced. 

She threw the letter down onto the table and dashed out of the Great Hall. Hermione tentatively picked it up. 

_Ginevra,_

_I cannot believe that my daughter was sorted into Slytherin. I thought I had raised her right, but I suppose somewhere along the line, she went off the path. Goodness knows when, but maybe it was when the Malfoys offered her better supplies, and she decided to sell herself out like a cheap whore on Knockturn Alley. I had half a mind to march up to Albus Dumbledore and demand that you be resorted, but I imagine that would do no good-no matter where you ended up sorted, you would try to be friends with those Death-Eater spawn. You were already defending them after only meeting them once. But remember, to them, you will always be no better than scum on their shoes. No matter what you try, they’ll never let you into their world._

_Your father and I just about died of shame all over again when we were informed of your sorting by Percy. Ronald may have stolen the Angelina and brought an inquiry down upon your father, but that will eventually pass. Having a child in Slytherin? The shame of that lasts forever._

_Do not try and write back, defending your decisions and your new friends._

_Do not expect to be able come home for Christmas, or Easter break-or indeed, next summer. You can stay with one of your new_ **_friends._ ** _The only reason we’re not pulling your funding from Hogwarts is that it has been prepaid in full. You will be paying us back the 1000 galleons we spent._

_You are no daughter of mine; you are nothing but a disappointment._

_Molly Weasley_

‘Friends’ was underscored so heavily the quill had nearly torn the parchment. The anger and cutting sarcasm positively dripped from the parchment. 

Hermione teared up reading the letter. She couldn’t imagine how Ginny felt, getting something like that from her own _mother._ Her head snapped up and she caught Draco’s gaze. “Get Professor Snape.” 

With that, she dashed out of the hall, intent on finding Ginny.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table, laughing about the Howler Mum had sent Ron.

“Did you see his face when he saw the letter?”

“Red as a tomato!”

“Never mind a tomato. He was on fire!”

“It’s not that we’re all that much better,” George grinned at Lee Jordan, who was laughing at the twin’s antics.

“Took the car for a spin ourselves many-a-time this summer.”

“‘Cept we didn’t get caught-”

“Other than once-”

“But that was Ron’s fault.”

“See, we were sneaking Potter back in, but he and Ronniekins were being far too loud, and woke Mum up.”

“Should’ve taken Ginny along.”

“At least _she_ knows how to be sneaky.”

George looked at the Slytherin table as he spoke, just in time to see his sister drop a letter and race out of the Great Hall. “Fred, d’you see that?”

“Ginny? Yeah. Reckon we should go and find out what’s wrong?”

“Got it.” George turned to Lee, “Hold the fort while we’re out.”

Lee gave them a mock salute, “Sure thing.”

Fred looked for Percy, but he was notably absent from the table. He settled for Ron, taking George along with him. “Ron!”

Ron looked up at them and said waspishly, “What?”

“Ginny’s upset. You and Harry are going to come with us and figure out what’s wrong so we can cheer her up.”

“No!” exclaimed Ron, “She’s a _slimy snake._ She’s in _Slytherin_. Whatever she gets, she deserves.”

George and Fred’s faces turned stony. George turned to Harry. “Potter?”

Harry shook his head, without looking them in the eyes, his gaze settled on his plate.

“I see how it is,” George’s voice was hard. He and Fred stalked to the Slytherin table, where Daphne Greengrass, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were sitting, whispering feverously amongst themselves. 

Fred cleared his throat. The second-year Slytherins jumped, before each squaring their shoulders, their faces each shifting into a blank mask. “Relax,” Fred said, “You don’t have to hide anything from us. We saw Ginny leave the Hall after reading a letter.”

“Who sent it to her?” George’s tone, was lacking any accusation, made the second-years relax, with the exception of Pansy, who glared at the red-heads.

“And why would we give you _her_ letter? For all we know, you’re just going to go after her and make her feel worse.”

“We wouldn’t!” Fred swore.

“I’m sure your younger brother would,” sneered Pansy, “What makes you two any different?”

“She’s our _sister_ ,” George shot back.

“Oh, well _excuse me._ It’s not like you’ve defended any of us Slytherins before. How was I to know that your sister would be any different?”

Fred barked out a laugh, “Sure, it’s not like I’ve been _half in_ _love_ with Emmeline Rosier for the past year or anything!” He went bright red as he realized that he had said that rather loudly. In fact, most of Slytherin was now staring at him. Including Emmeline. He flushed and ran his hand through his hair, self-consciously, “Look, just tell us where she went. We’ve known that she thought she’d be sorted into Slytherin since the middle of summer. She’s our sister, no matter what.”

Pansy eyed them warily, before, at a nudge and nod from Daphne, the only other older sibling among them, handing them the letter. Fred and George scanned the paper, their faces falling at the exact same moment, as if they were a mirror image of each other. When they finished, they turned to each other and seemingly had a silent conversation. They nodded grimly, before turning back to the Slytherins.

“Alright, well, if one of you can get a Professor-” said George.

“Draco’s ahead of you, there,” inserted Theo.

George nodded. “Good. We’re going to go find Ginny now, then.”

The two dashed out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Emmeline Rosier was having a _wonderful_ morning, thank you very much for asking. Quidditch practice was poised to start soon, and the only open position on the team was Seeker, so they could easily practice as a team even _before_ try-outs. It would be fantastic - they’d be able to beat Gryffindor this year, no question

She was drinking a strawberry smoothie, and exchanging answers for her Charms Summer Homework with Chelsea Travers, her best friend.

“What did you talk about in your essay?” Chelsea asked, as she poured syrup onto her waffles.

“I chose to do mine about the theory behind Banishing Charms,” shrugged Emmeline, “You know, where something goes, once it's banished. I did a bit of reading up on Muggle science actually - the Law of Conservation of Energy. Hermione put me up to it. She might only be twelve, but she’s got a scarily good head on her shoulders.”

Chelsea laughed, “Ravenclaw much?”

Emmeline snorted, “Only for Charms and Defense.”

“Speaking of your cousin, what are Fred and George Weasley doing talking to her friends?”

Emmeline furrowed her brow. “Where’s Hermione, come to that? Draco’s not there either, nor is that new Weasley girl-Ginny, wasn’t it?”

Chelsea rolled her eyes, “I think. You and your names.”

“What? I think knowing every single person’s name is very advantageous,” she sniffed.

“Shut up-I’m trying to hear what they’re saying-”

“Sure, it’s not like I’ve been half in _love_ with Emmeline Rosier for the past year or anything!” burst one of the twins-Fred, Emmeline thought. She could tell them apart-Merlin knows why anyone else couldn’t.

And then the words caught up with her.

Fred Weasley was half in love with her.

“ _What?”_ she hissed to Chelsea.

Chelsea rolled her eyes again, “As if I haven’t been telling you the same thing for the past year.” A Cheshire-Cat grin unfolded across her face. “Do _you_ like him? You always avoid that whenever I tell you that he has a thing for you.”

“No,” Emmeline denied vehemently, “I mean, sure he’s brilliant and all once you get through the stupid veneer of his Gryffindorish-ness and his pranks, which are ridiculously clever, even if they’re for the _stupidest_ of things. And he’s a good enough Beater, I suppose, even if he plays for _Gryffindor_ . And sure, he’s got really nice hazel eyes, but his smirk is absolutely infuriating, and the way he messes up his hair is just-” Chelsea was looking at her pointedly. “Oh _shit_ . Oh _fuck._ Blistering buggering fuck!”

“So, you do fancy Fred Weasley, then, Emmeline?” 

She was met with a groan from the dark-haired girl. 

* * *

Ginny sat in the bathroom, crying her eyes out, as the words from her mother’s letter echoed in her head. 

_Cheap whore. Scum on their shoes. They’ll never let you in. Lasts forever. Shame. Shame. Shame. No daughter of mine. Disappointment. Disappointment. DISAPPOINTMENT._

“STOP IT!” Ginny screamed, holding her hands over her ears, as she rocked back and forth. 

Hearing the scream, Hermione came racing into the bathroom. She looked around frantically before spotting Ginny in the corner. She rushed over to her. 

Without thinking, Ginny threw herself into the older girl’s arms. Hermione enveloped the girl into a hug, making gentle shushing noises into the red-head’s hair. 

“I-I knew they wouldn’t be h-happy,” Ginny hiccupped through her sobs, “But-but-” she trailed off into another wave of tears.

“Let it all out,” Hermione said gently. Before she could say any more, however, Fred and George Weasley burst into the bathroom. Hermione eyed them suspiciously, continuing to hold Ginny, “You’d better have not come here to make her feel worse.”

“Godric, no,” one of the twins said fervently.

“She’s our _sister!”_ said the other.

“What is it with Slytherins and your suspicions?”

“We take care of our own,” Hermione said firmly, and raised an eyebrow, “And forgive me for worrying that you’re anything like Ron Weasley.”

“Fred? George?” Ginny lifted her head, sniffling.

Their faces broke out into what Hermione would describe as relief. Ginny stood up abruptly and rushed towards the two, and they cocooned her into a hug. Hermione looked onto the scene with a small smile on her face. She loved her family more than anything-she couldn’t imagine her entire family turning her back on her, so she was glad that her newest friend hadn’t lost everyone. 

* * *

The first class of term for the second-year Slytherins was Herbology with Professor Sprout and Ravenclaw, so they all dutifully trudged out towards the greenhouses. When they arrived, Professor Sprout was approaching the crowd. Her arms were covered in bandages, and she was accompanied by Professor Lockhart. Hermione looked at the direction they were coming from - the Whomping Willow looked awfully beat up from the car Weasley and Potter had decided to drive into it. 

Hermione had left Ginny when Professor Snape showed up and promised that he would find some arrangements for her that day during her free period. The Weasley twins had looked on, astonished. 

Professor Snape had then turned to them and said drolly, “Close your mouths, you’ll catch flies.”

The twins were positively astounded, which made Hermione laugh. “He’s not that bad when you get to know him.”

She had then flounced off, leaving the odd convention in the girl’s bathroom, to Draco who was waiting outside holding her schedule.

Hermione was taken back to reality by Lockhart’s loud voice, accompanied by his equally loud robes: “In _turquoise!”_ Daphne had drawn back in disgust.

“Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happened to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels . . .” 

“Sure, that’s likely,” snorted Theo, “It was a plant specially bred in the 70s. The only one in existence is here.”

Daphne’s eyes lit up and she kissed Theo on the cheek quickly.

“Greenhouse three today, chaps!” Professor Sprout announced, albeit far less cheerfully than she normally did. She was obviously just as scornful of Lockhart as Daphne was. 

Everyone broke out into excited murmurs as they trekked towards Greenhouse three-they had only ever worked in Greenhouse one before, which contained the safest and least interesting plants. Greenhouse three was a step up-more dangerous, and therefore, more interesting. When they all settled into the Greenhouse, there were a set of earmuffs in front of each seat. Hermione eyed them curiously.

Professor Sprout’s disposition seemingly returned to normal at the absence of Lockhart, as she exclaimed cheerfully, “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

Hermione grinned-this wasn’t always covered in Herbology, so she was glad to be one of the years that _did_ learn about Mandrakes. She raised her hand. “Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative. It’s used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.”

“Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin,” said Professor Sprout. “The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?” 

This time it was a Ravenclaw-Padma Patil-who raised their hand. “A Mandrake’s cry kills anyone who hears it.”

“Precisely. Take ten points for Ravenclaw, then, Miss Patil,” said Professor Sprout. “Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young. They won’t kill you, but they will knock you out for several hours.” She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. There were maybe a hundred little purplish-green plants growing in rows. “Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout. Once everyone had grabbed a pair, she smiled. “When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,” said Professor Sprout. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs on.” Hermione slid the earmuffs over her ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Hermione looked around at her friends and grimaced as the Mandrake was pulled from its bed. It was a rather disgusting plant that looked like the ugliest baby Hermione had ever seen. It reminded her of the images in the warnings against inbreeding that Pure-blooded parents would show their children. It looked like a Gaunt - a cadet branch of the Slytherin line, which had died out about fifty years ago. The portraits of the last family members had displayed horribly malformed jaws, sallow skin, bugging eyes, and pig-like noses. It was a clear warning: don’t marry your cousin every generation for two hundred years, because you’ll end up looking like this sorry lot. 

Professor Sprout thrust the green, ugly Mandrake baby into another large pot, and buried him in compost, so that only the leaves of his hair were visible, and gave them all a thumbs up, before taking off her pair of earmuffs.

“As I said, our Mandrakes won’t kill you yet, but they will knock you out, so as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.” She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Hermione ended up in a group with Draco, Pansy and Blaise.

“I think the Mandrake looked a bit like a Gaunt, didn’t it?” Hermione giggled. 

Pansy snorted, “I’m surprised Sirius looks as good as he does, seeing as his parents were cousins.” She made a face.

Draco rolled his eyes, “At least it only happened once, rather than a bunch of times, generation after generation. I honestly think it’s because the both of them were so awful that they had nobody else they could marry.”

“Better than falling in love with a cousin,” Blaise said, “That’s just- _ugh_. Who are the Gaunts, anyways?”

“Super inbred descendants of Slytherin. They’re all dead now, though,” said Draco.

After that they didn’t have much chance to talk. They snapped their earmuffs back on, and proceeded to concentrate on the Mandrakes.

Somehow, in her demonstration, Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn’t. The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but they didn’t seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth, and Hermione imagined that even Neville wouldn’t enjoy this when it was Gryffindor’s turn. And on that note, as the class ended, they rushed to Potions with Gryffindor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know I normally post on Fridays but I'm super busy tomorrow morning so I decided I would post this week's chapter today instead. Also, I will be posting next week on the 18th, but I will not be posting on the 25th or the 1st, or the weeks of either. This is just to let me be able to write without deadlines and get really far ahead in terms of chapters-right now I'm writing Chapter 21, but I'd like to get as far ahead as I possibly can, as it makes life a bit easier for me to feel like I don't have to deal with hard deadlines or anything.


	17. Bring On All the Pretenders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta FalconHonour!

Their first DADA class was scheduled to be last period on Thursday, and they’d be with the Gryffindors. It was lunch break, and the entire class of second-year Slytherins, with the addition of Ginny, were headed off to a courtyard to play an Exploding Snap tournament. When they arrived, they saw Potter signing some fidgety first-year’s photo. 

“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?” Draco’s voice echoed around the courtyard, as he stopped beside the firstie, who was apparently a Gryffindor, going by the color of his tie. “Everyone line up!” Malfoy roared to the crowd. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!” 

“No, I’m not,” said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. “Shut up, Malfoy.” 

“You’re just jealous,” piped up the first year.

“What’s he got to be jealous of, Creevey?” snapped Ginny, “Draco hardly needs the money Potter’s going to make selling signed photos. What’re you going to do with it, Potter?” she sneered, suddenly whirling on the dark-haired boy, “Sit on it, like you do with the rest of your money? You know, people who are as well off as you tend to try and _help_ the less fortunate. For example, if they receive a _whole set_ of Lockhart’s books for free, they could give them to one of the kids in the family they’ve stayed with for the past month, you know as a form of _payment,_ because they can certainly afford to buy their own copies. But no. That didn’t even cross your tiny little mind, did it? Oh, well that’s just fine! It’s not like you sat on your arse the whole time he was there and didn’t even offer to help with the chores.”

Potter looked shocked by Ginny’s outburst. Ron was turning a bright shade of red. “Shut _up,_ Ginny! Nobody cares what you think, now that you’re in Slytherin!”

“No, that’s not how this works,” Ginny spat, “You two ignored me all summer long. And Ron, you’ve _never_ cared about my opinion, even before I got sorted, so don’t pretend this is about what colour tie I wear. Besides, who are you to judge _my_ friends? They’ve _talked_ to me this week, which is something I can’t say about you.”

“Eat slugs,” said Ron angrily, hand flying for his wand.

“Be careful, Weasley,” Pansy cut in. “You don’t want to start any trouble or your mommy will have to come and take you away from school.” She put on a high-pitched voice, similar to the one Draco used whenever he wanted to mock Molly Weasley. “If you put another toe out of line —”

They all burst into laughter. 

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” Gilderoy Lockhart strode towards them, his ultraviolet robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?” When he spotted Potter, he grinned and flung an arm around the young celebrity’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”

The Slytherins held back their laughter, but their smirks stayed in place as they disappeared into the crowd, laughing and high-fiving each other once they rounded the corner.

“You okay, Red?” Blaise asked.

Ginny squared her jaw, “I’m fine, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting. And don’t hold back on my account-I’m not even sure if I really count as a Weasley anymore, what with my mother’s letter.”

The afternoon bell rang, and Ginny broke off from the rest of the group to go to her class, as the second-years headed for Lockhart’s classroom. The seating was arranged so that there were three to a table. Daphne promptly declared that they were doing a girls-only table, and dragged Pansy and Hermione off to a table somewhere in the back of the class.

Potter came stumbling in at about the same time as Lockhart, and was waved over by Ron Weasley to sit at his table. Once everyone had been seated, Lockhart began class.

He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front. “Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” He waited for them to laugh, but was greeted by dead silence. Through either cheerful optimism or deft stupidity, he grinned as if the joke had landed. 

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in —” When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes — start — now!” 

Hermione looked down to her paper and read the questions with horror: 

  1. _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?_
  2. _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_
  3. _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_



It went on until question 54-for three more pages, front and back. Hermione could hear Daphne’s teeth grinding next to her, and Pansy, who was on the other side of Daphne, was looking at the paper with barely contained glee. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her, and Pansy slid her paper over. The answer to Question One read _‘Jaundice yellow, the same colour as his teeth.’_

Hermione struggled to not burst out into laughter. Seeing the amusement on her sister’s face, Daphne snatched Pansy’s paper and read it over, struggling to contain her laughter - even more so than Hermione.

After about half an hour, Lockhart collected the papers back up, and Daphne discreetly cast a copying spell on Pansy’s quiz, tucking it away into her bag.

Lockhart was looking through the papers, “Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magical and non-magical peoples — though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey!” 

He winked at the class, and Hermione looked at Daphne, who was glaring at the man so fiercely Hermione was worried he’d catch fire. 

“But, now! To business!” the man said, marching to his desk and pulling out an enormous cage covered by a sheet with a tacky pattern. “Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm. I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. The class leaned in, trying to get a peek at whatever dangerous creature Lockhart had stowed away. Lockhart grinned at the attention he was receiving, before hushing the classroom again. “It might provoke them.” He whisked off the cover, and Hermione realized what was in the cage.

“Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies. ”

Seamus Finnigan let out a snort of laughter.

“Yes?” He smiled at Finnigan.

“Well, they’re not — they’re not very — dangerous, are they?” Seamus choked. 

“Don’t be so sure!” said Lockhart, waggling a finger at Seamus. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!” 

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and shrill voices to boot. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them. 

“Impossible,” Pansy whispered, “A creature that’s just as annoying as Gryffindors.”

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass, and the girls quickly cast shielding spells. 

The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window. Within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling. 

“Come on now — round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!” It had absolutely no effect, as evidenced by a pixie grabbing his wand and throwing it out the window. Lockhart dashed out of the classroom. 

“Alright, this has gone on long enough,” Hermione growled, brandishing her wand. “ _Immobulus!”_ The pixies froze midair, and Hermione looked around the classroom. “Come on, now, everyone grab some of them and stuff them back in the stupid cage. Although, if any of you are particularly good at Cushioning Charms, you can help me try and get Neville down from the chandelier.”

* * *

Slytherin held Seeker tryouts on a bright and sunny Friday afternoon. Draco had been a ball of nervous energy the whole week, and had made Hermione swear up and down that she would go to try-outs. 

Which was why she found herself waiting outside with the rest of her Slytherin friends, as well as Hannah and Carrine. Thomas had received the title of Quidditch Co-Captain, shared with Marcus Flint, something Hermione had congratulated him on the first day back - he’d deserved it.

Draco sat on the bench beside her, his brand-new Nimbus 2001 in hand, watching Lucian Bole, a third-year, and the last remaining competitor for Seeker, fly through the air.

Hermione was fairly convinced Draco would get the position- not only was he a better flyer than Bole, but from what she had overheard, Bole preferred playing Keeper to Seeker. 

Thomas called Draco down to the pitch and Draco sprang up as Bole dismounted his broomstick. Hermione could see Thomas holding the Snitch in his hand as he spoke to Draco. Draco nodded his head at something, and then Thomas let go of the Snitch. Draco waited for a few moments before leaping onto his broom and soaring into the sky, searching for the Snitch, as Marcus Flint waved his wand, setting a timer. 

Hermione crossed her fingers and held onto the bench-she wanted Draco on the team so badly. He really did deserve it, he was wicked good at Quidditch and he had practised like a man possessed that summer. He’d worked so hard on his form, in fact, that Uncle Lucius had promised that he would buy the whole team Nimbus 2001s if Draco got on the team. 

“He’ll get it,” Daphne said, assuredly. “Don’t worry, Mia.”

“Why are you so tense anyways?” Pansy asked.

“He’s my best friend, I want him to get on the team.”

Pansy and Daphne exchanged a look that went unnoticed by Hermione, who had snapped her eyes back to the sky, where Draco was searching for the Snitch. He had to beat Bole, who had found the Snitch in an hour and a half. 

It was about fifty minutes into Draco’s trial, he spotted something in the sky. The Snitch. Hermione grasped at Daphne and Pansy’s hands as he flew after the Snitch at breakneck speed.

“Come on, come _on_ …” Hermione murmured. 

And then Draco was reaching out, his fingers extended for the flying golden ball, leaning in. 

_“Come on…”_

And his fingertips closed around the Snitch, and Hermione let out a whoop, as Draco slowed down and descended to the ground, where Thomas and Marcus were waiting. Marcus ended his spell, and then called over Bole, before saying something. Draco’s face lit up, and Bole turned to him, offering him a congratulatory smile. After Marcus and Thomas nodded, Draco raced off, and Hermione got up abruptly, dashing towards the entrance to the Quidditch Bleachers. 

She met Draco somewhere in the middle and barreled into him, hugging him tightly. “Congratulations, Draco!” She kissed him quickly on the cheek, before leaping off and letting out a whoop. “You did it!” Draco stood there, his broom forgotten on the ground and his face pink. He held a hand up to his cheek, wearing an ear-splitting grin.

* * *

Ginny fidgeted in Professor Snape’s chair nervously, watching the fireplace intently. 

“Don’t be so worried,” Professor Snape said smoothly, “From what I’ve heard from Lady Malfoy, she already adores you."

Ginny smiled, “Thank you.” She paused. “You know, I was worried about you, with how much the twins and Ron complained about your classes this summer… but you’re actually really nice. When you choose to be.”

Snape smirked, “I’ll take that as an enthusiastic endorsement. Do you mind if I put that in my autobiography?”

Ginny laughed, “You could be like Lockhart!” She reddened-“Professor Lockhart-” Snape quirked an eyebrow. Ginny paused before deciding, “Lockhart. He doesn’t deserve the title of Professor. But you could write a book like him. Title it ‘Prestigious Potioneering,’ subtitle, ‘Prats Pushing my Patience’.” 

Ginny jumped and turned around as raucous laughter suddenly came from beside the fireplace. A tall woman with a tight blonde chignon and fitted designer robes had her head thrown back in laughter. 

“Severus! I knew she was wonderful, but you never told me just how delightful Miss Weasley was!” 

She chuckled again, then deepened her voice into a slow drawl. “My miserable existence began on January 9, 1960, and it all went downhill from there.” She threw her head back and laughed yet again, as Snape pinched his nose, and pretended he wasn’t smiling. Careful not to offend her Professor, Ginny giggled behind her hand. Narcissa smiled at her. “Feel free to laugh, Severus needs to take himself less seriously.” She returned to her ‘Snape-Voice’. “The best day of my life, by quite some margin , was September 1st, 1971, when I met Narcissa Black, by far the most amazing friend of mine.”

The dam burst and Ginny broke out into full-on laughter.

Professor Snape glared at Narcissa, although it lacked heat. “I blame you for anything that comes from this.”

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Narcissa smiled coquettishly, “This isn’t something that you should _blame_ me for. You should celebrate it.” She turned to Ginny, “Come along, now, dear, we have a terribly busy day. Besides, when Severus has an aneurysm, we don’t want to be discovered on the scene of his death.” She hesitated, “Have you ever taken the Floo before?” Ginny nodded. “Alright, good.” She stepped into the fireplace, and threw Floo Powder onto her feet. “Diagon Alley!” She disappeared in a flash of green. 

Ginny looked to Professor Snape, who made a gesture for her to go. “You’ll need all the time you can get, no use in wasting it standing in my office like a dunderhead.” 

Ginny nodded, and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the fireplace, before exclaiming “Diagon Alley!”

She came out the other side in the Leaky Cauldron, where Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for her. She offered Ginny a smile. “Come along, now.” Ginny followed the woman to the back room, where Narcissa got out her wand and tapped it in a pattern upon the bricks. “You can call me Ms. Narcissa, or just Cissa, if you like. What would you like me to call you, then?”

“Ginny,” she replied.

“Alright, now Ginny, can you tell me a little bit about yourself? What classes do you like? What do you like to do? Are you a Quidditch fan, perhaps?”

Ginny grinned, “I’m a _big_ Quidditch fan, I like the Holyhead Harpies. I want to play for them one day, as a Chaser. I’m actually pretty good at playing, I mean, at least I think so. I want to be on the Slytherin team, the year after next - there aren’t any openings for Chasers until then. So far, I think I really like Astronomy and Potions. I thought I’d absolutely love the subject of Defence, but with Lockhart teaching it…” she trailed off, “It’s not what I had hoped.”

Narcissa pursed her lips, “I can imagine. You said you like flying?” Ginny nodded fervently. “Then we’ll have to get you a new broom as well. Lucius is meeting us this afternoon, to get some odds and ends, most particularly six new Nimbus 2001s for the Slytherin Quidditch team. We’ll make it seven and grab one for you as well, then,” she said nonchalantly. “I know first years aren’t technically allowed to have their own brooms so we’ll just pretend it's for Hermione this year. That girl wouldn’t use a broom unless it was life-or-death.” She laughed. “And when you come home for the summer and can legally take a broom to school, we’ll have your name engraved on the handle.”

Ginny stood there, her mouth wide open. “I-What-I… that’s not necessary-”

Narcissa cut her off with a hand wave, “Oh, of course it is. You like to fly, we’re getting you a broom. Simple as that.”

“But a _Nimbus 2001?_ That’s really generous, you don’t need to-”

“Nonsense,” Narcissa giggled, “You’ll learn that we Malfoys don’t do things by half. If we’re getting you a broom, we’re getting you the best broom on the market.” They came to a stop in front of Twilfitt and Tattings. “You need an entire new wardrobe, I have the shop booked out for the rest of the morning.”

\---

Narcissa sat across from Ginny in a little upscale café next to Twilfitt and Tattings, after having sent Dobby, one of their house elves, to drop off Ginny’s new clothing. Narcissa had said offhandedly, “It _is_ designer and the highest quality in London, but it’s not from Paris or Milan, so we’ll get some clothing from there next summer. I’d do it over your Yule break, but Lucius and I are going on a trip with Selene and Hyperion Greengrass, as well as Blair and Maurice Abbott. Sirius Black is coming along as well, and I imagine he’ll be sleeping with every unattached man and woman in Cyprus.” She rolled her eyes. “Some things never change, I suppose. Though I’m not going to spend our entire lunch prattling on about going on holiday. Instead, I’d like to talk about this.” Narcissa pulled out a letter and placed it onto the table. Ginny realised that it was the first (and last) letter she had received from her parents. “I found it in your robe pockets when you were getting fitted. I’d like to address it, line by line, if that’s alright with you, Ginny?”

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t want to seem weak, but Merlin, she needed help, and maybe just maybe, Narcissa would be able to.

“First of all, the first paragraph is a complete lie,” Narcissa took Ginny’s hand, “I know that you know this, but sometimes it helps to hear someone else say it. There is nothing wrong with you for being sorted into Slytherin. And sponsorships are rather common in Slytherin in regards to children who come from families who aren’t as well off or well connected, at least compared to their peers. For example, the Puceys sponsor Tracey Davis, one of the girls in Draco’s year, and Lucius’s parents sponsored Severus back when we went to school.” 

Narcissa drew in a deep breath, “No mother should call her child the things your mother called you in that letter. It is simply inexcusable. From what I have seen and have been told, you are terribly clever and witty, and a perfectly wonderful girl. As for never letting you into our world,” Narcissa glared at the letter, “Molly Weasley does not understand ‘our world’ in the slightest, so she shouldn’t pretend to know that you wouldn’t be accepted. As for being more angry over your Sorting than your brother breaking the Statute of Secrecy and the law… well, I think that’s ridiculous. As for your breaks, I would be remiss if I didn’t extend an invitation for you to live at Malfoy Manor-we can set up a room for you and have it decorated to your tastes. Hermione, Daphne, Hannah and Pansy will be over nearly every day, as will the youngest Greengrass, Astoria, whom you have yet to meet. And don’t think you’ll be the only one staying either. Blaise Zabini spent most of last summer with us while his mother was on the Riviera” She continued on nonchalantly.

“As for the Hogwarts payment, I think I ought to leave the choice up to you. We can either take your parents to the Wizengamot for making unreasonable financial demands of a minor, or Lucius and I can just give them the thousand galleons that they’re asking for. Although there is no love lost between your parents and Lucius and I, I’m not going to try and drag you through a court case that you don’t want to be a part of because of a family feud that you don’t need to take sides in.”

Ginny’s eyes welled up with tears. “I-I’d just like to not have to see them again. But all that other stuff? You’d do all that for me?” Narcissa nodded gently. “Thank you,” Ginny whispered.

* * *

It was the morning of Draco’s first Quidditch practice, and his friends had decided to show up and to show their support. Ginny practically vibrated with excitement as she jumped around the second-year Slytherin girl’s dorm room. 

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “What are you so excited about, Gin?”

“Because _Slytherin_ has the pitch, which means I can use my new broom and fly around. Can’t do that if another house is there, because of the whole first year no broom rule. I rode on those school brooms once, I’m not going to do it again.”

Pansy snorted, “You could just say that you’re borrowing Hermione’s broom if other houses are out, no?”

“Nope,” Hermione said, popping the p, “That would mean _I_ would have to be out there and people would get suspicious if I wasn’t riding ‘my’ broom. And I’m _not_ riding a broom unless I have to. Now come on, we’ve got to go out to the common room so everyone can get going.”

They were a rather cheerful group on the way to the Quidditch Pitch. Ginny sat on Marcus Flint’s shoulders, and was practicing Slytherin Quidditch chants at the top of her lungs. Thomas and Marcus were also singing along, off-key, and Miles Bletchley, who was actually a fantastic singer, was coming in with the harmony. It sounded completely and utterly ridiculous. Emmeline was rolling her eyes, but humming along, and Alfie Selwyn was doing some sort of traditional Irish jig along to the song, while Draco was just laughing at the whole display. 

Ginny had integrated into Slytherin House rather quickly, all things considered. Of course, word getting out about how her parents had reacted - courtesy of Pansy - hadn’t hurt. After all, Slytherin protects their own. The entire house had collectively and silently decided that they would make up for the loss of parts of her family. As such, she was the most well known first-year by miles. She’d play chess in the common room with anyone who asked...and the upper years had an unspoken agreement that they would take it in turns to ask. Once she had found out who the Quidditch Captains were, she had marched straight up to Thomas and Marcus, and given them a whole entire playbook that she had made by hand, just from listening to the radio broadcasts of every Quidditch Match she could for the past five years. The playbook even contained a few plays of her own invention and they were all quite brilliant according to Thomas. Marcus, who already had a bevy of sisters, three of whom were also in Slytherin, had declared that he wanted one more, and had insisted that Ginny come to all Quidditch Practices to be their unofficial Assistant Captain. Ginny, of course, had taken him up on the offer immediately.

As they approached the Quidditch Pitch, Hermione thought she saw the Gryffindor Captain come to the ground rather hard, stumbling a bit on landing. She nudged Draco and he smirked. 

“Flint! Yaxley!” Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captains. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!” 

Marcus crouched down to the ground so Ginny could scramble off his back, before standing back up to his rather intimidating 6’6 height and staring down the Gryffindor Captain.

“Touchy much, Wood?” Pansy murmured as Daphne and Ginny stifled a giggle.

“Plenty of room for all of us, Wood,” Thomas replied smoothly.

“But I booked the field!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I _booked_ it!”

“Ah,” said Marcus. “But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. ‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’” He waved the note under Wood’s nose and the other boy grabbed it disbelievingly.

Wood looked up. “You’ve got a new Seeker? Where?”

The Slytherin team opened ranks, putting Draco on display. He stepped forward, smirking. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, and whispered to Theo and Blaise, “In another life, I think he would make an excellent actor. He’s certainly theatrical enough for it.”

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Potter seethed.

“Ah, funny you should mention,” Thomas grinned, “Although I suppose you’re probably talking about _Draco_ , who made a rather excellent show in try-outs a few weeks ago, _Lucius_ Malfoy made a terribly generous donation a couple days ago.”

“Wanna see?” Marcus asked, a bit nastily. Before the Gryffindors could respond, each member of the team displayed their brand new Nimbus 2001’s. Even Ginny, who wasn't (officially) a member of the team, had retrieved her broom from the shed earlier, and was holding it lovingly.

“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” said Marcus carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, which I imagine most of you lot have, well, they sweep the board with them.”

The Gryffindors were completely silent, although Fred and George had spotted Ginny holding a Nimbus 2001, and were having one of those silent conversations they tended to have, big grins on their faces.

Then-out of nowhere-Ron Weasley came racing onto the field, face red. “What’s happening?” he asked Potter. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s _he_ doing here?” He sneered at Draco.

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” said Draco, a bit smugly. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team.” Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the broomsticks in front of him. “Good, aren’t they?” said Malfoy smoothly. “But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to get some new brooms, too. I mean, it isn’t _uncommon_ for a new Seeker to provide new brooms for the rest of the team, and Potter certainly has the vaults for it. But I guess if he wouldn’t even give Ginny the books Lockhart _gave_ to him for free, he’d never dream of buying his teammates any new brooms.”

Hermione smirked internally at just how uncomfortable Potter looked. It was pretty nice to see the Gryffindor Golden-Boy called out for his less than stellar characteristics for once. The good feeling unfortunately went out the window the moment Ronald Weasley’s eyes drifted over to his sister. His sister and her brand new broomstick.

“Ginny!” he roared, “What the hell is that?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes at her brother, “Are you stupid Ron? It’s a Nimbus 2001, duh. Aunt Narcissa bought it for me the other day, when we were in Diagon Alley.”

Hermione smirked internally as she heard the younger girl refer to Narcissa as ‘Aunt Narcissa’. She knew full well that Ginny didn’t really think of Narcissa as her aunt. Not yet at least. She was just trying to rile her brother up. And it worked _beautifully._ Ron’s face went even redder, if that was possible, until he was the colour of an overripe raspberry. “You call her ‘Aunt! After everything they’ve done to our parents? You traitorous slimy rat-snake _bitch!”_

Instantly, there was a flurry of movement: Thomas Yaxley and Adrian Pucey were working together to hold Flint back from lunging at the youngest Weasley brother. Miles Bletchley and Alfie Selwyn were shouting a truly impressive array of obscenities in Scottish and Irish respectively, and Emmeline had her fists clenched at her sides, her face an impossibly blank mask. Even on the side of the Gryffindors, there was an absolutely seething George Weasley, in the process of tackling his twin, who had dived at Ron. But it was Draco who set Ron off. 

“You’re a pathetic rat-arsed shit-for-brains Blood Traitor, Weasley. The only reason you’re so bloody insecure is because you know you’ll never be a tenth as good a wizard as Ginny is a witch!”

Ron Weasley pulled out his wand, and Hermione noted absently, that it was broken, and taped together. “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” he screamed, and pointed it furiously at Malfoy’s face. A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

Everything was still for a second, as Ron Weasley sat in the grass, clutching his stomach. 

And then, he opened his mouth, and _slugs_ dribbled out. Actual, live slugs.

And then, Fred and George Weasley burst out laughing, and the spell was broken. Although the Weasley twins clearly had no reservations against laughing at their brother, the rest of the Gryffindor team seemed torn. Of course, when Potter rushed his friend and started leading him off the field, most of them followed. The Slytherins, meanwhile, were absolutely _hysterical_ with laughter.

“Absolutely _brilliant_ , Weasley,” Draco managed to call out at the back of the retreating boy. “Absolutely brilliant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I will not be posting for the next two weeks so I can catch on writing and the holiday season. I will be back to posting normally on January 8th of the new year.
> 
> What did you think about this chapter? What did you think about *that* moment at the end of the Quidditch tryouts? Comments keep me motivated so let me know your thoughts!
> 
> All my love and happy holidays!


	18. You and I’ll be Safe and Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's your new chapter after my 2 week holiday break. Hope y'all enjoy it! As always, thanks to FalconHonour for beta-ing my work. Speaking of, a newly beta'd Chapter 1 is up, if you want to check it out, which I highly recommend.

Emmeline Rosier was sitting on the edge of the Black Lake, Charms textbook in hand, although she was paying very little attention to it. Fred and George Weasley were sitting a dozen feet away, planning on stealing or, as they would probably put it, ‘liberating’ a salamander from Care of Magical Creatures. Fred looked up to see her staring at them and grinned. Emmeline went red and busied herself with her book, but continued to watch the two out of the corner of her eye. George Weasley laughed at something his twin said, and ambled back up onto the castle as Fred Weasley started making his way towards Emmeline. She hurriedly started reading, although the words weren’t really registering in her head. Still, she had a pretence to keep up, so she didn’t let herself react even as Fred dropped down beside her.

“Are you really going to pretend you’re cramming for Charms, when you and I both know you’re the top of our class in Charms and you’ve known how to do-” he leaned over to see what chapter she was on- “a Summoning Charm for nearly a year now? ”

The corners of Emmeline’s mouth twitched, before she smoothed them out. “Is that so, Fred Weasley?”

Fred broke out into a grin. “I knew you knew which one I was.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes slightly. “It’s not _that_ hard. I mean, you’re a little taller than George, quarter of an inch or so. Your hair is a shade or two lighter than his. And he’s got freckles on the back of his ears, while you don’t, but you have a smattering of freckles right underneath your right eye that looks like the Big Dipper.” She blushed. “I don’t watch you or anything, it’s just kind of obvious.”

Fred smirked, “Didn’t know you noticed that. I mean, it’s pretty hard to get all that from _not_ watching someone.”

“Well I guess I’m just observant.”

“Maybe.” Fred paused. “You know, from _not_ watching you and all that, I’ve discovered that your hair is not actually black, though it looks like it from a distance. It’s just a very very dark brown. Coffee-coloured, I’d call it. But in the sunlight you can see little streaks of dark auburn. But it’s just kind of obvious. Like you said.”

They sat quietly for a moment.

“I’ve noticed that even though you sit at the back of the classroom and slack off most of the time, you’re really rather brilliant at creating your own spells back there. Even if they aren’t what we’re learning.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve got a wicked aim with a Bludger.”

“You do too.” Emmeline blushed again. “I guess.”

Fred smiled at her. “I’ve noticed that there’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up.”

Emmeline looked at him. “I’ve noticed that your voice carries.” She bit her lip. “And that I would go with you if you were able to _liberate_ one of the salamanders.”

“Really?” Fred shot up, “You’ll go to Hogsmeade with me? For a date?” 

Emmeline shrugged lightly. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll free all the salamanders for you!” Fred declared, “I’ll go back to the castle right now, George and I need to start planning. This is the most important thing we have ever had to pull off,” He looked back at Emmeline who was clearly bemused. He offered her a hand, “Would you like to come back to the castle with me? I can escort you to the Slytherin common room. If you like.”

Emmeline offered him a small smile. “Sure.” She took his hand and stood up, and they started on the path back to the main entrance, “Ginny’s doing quite well in Slytherin. She’s a very sweet girl. Has a lot of personality. She doesn’t back down, either, which is rather admirable.”  
Fred grinned, “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, “I, er, couldn’t help but notice that you both got new broomsticks.”

Emmeline nodded, “A gift from the Malfoy family. And, yeah, okay, we said it was for the team because Draco made Seeker, but it was for Ginny’s sake, really. Narcissa took her out shopping a bit ago, you know, to get that new wand of hers, and when Ginny mentioned that she liked flying, Narcissa bought her a Nimbus 2001.”

“Just like that?” Fred couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up. When Emmeline nodded again, he whistled slowly, “You know, it’s just... my parents, they’ve always told us, well, _things_ about the Malfoys. Slytherins in general, if I’m being honest, but the Malfoys in particular. I mean, I’ve always known that what they said was rubbish, but you’ve all been really great to Ginny, and that’s all I could ever ask for. The day she came in wearing not just new robes, but high-end, _tailored_ ones, with a brand new wand and quills and all sorts of things, I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had to be really special people to do all that for a girl they’d barely met. Especially the wand. George and I saved up everything we’d ever gotten from Christmas and our birthdays and spent it all to get ourselves new wands before first year. I mean, there were old ones in the family that _worked_ but, you know how wands are. And Ginny-well-she deserves something that's all her own, you know? I would’ve bought her a new wand myself if I had the money for it, even if it took up every Knut I had, but…” Fred paused, flushed, blew out his cheeks and finally admitted, “ George and I only had a total of four Galleons and 12 Sickles saved up, and well, that doesn’t buy a wand.”

Emmeline smiled softly at Fred, “You’re a really good brother.”

Fred mussed with his hair, “Thanks.” And then there they were, at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. “Do you want me to start heading back? So I don’t hear the password and all that?”

Emmeline looked at him, and seemingly came to a decision. “They change every so often anyways. So...as long as you don’t try to pull anything,” She paused, “Bubotuber.” The wall came to life, the bricks sliding away to reveal a fairly empty common room, and turned back to him in the doorway. “Have a good day, Fred.”

Fred offered her a smile, before starting to walk away. “You too, Emmeline.”  
Emmeline thought for a moment, and called out, “Fred?”  
He turned back around. “Yeah?”  
She smirked, eyes gleaming, “I’ve _noticed_ that Professor Kettleburn usually spends Tuesday nights drinking a nightcap with Professor Flitwick.”

A large grin split the Gryffindor’s face.

* * *

Hermione wandered through the largest Hogwarts courtyard. It was a chilly Saturday afternoon, but more importantly, it was Samhain, and she was on a mission. Hermione spotted Hannah sitting on a bench by a patch of orange mums, sucking on a sugar quill. She made her way across the courtyard, and plopped down on the bench next to Hannah.

“Hi, Hermione. Happy Samhain!” Hannah smiled.

“Happy one year anniversary of us taking down a troll!” Hermione teased.

Hannah laughed. “Gosh, time flies, doesn’t it?” 

“I know. And to celebrate-” Hermione pulled out her wand, and waved it, causing a stream of confetti to burst from the tip and rain down on the two girls. “Confetti!”

Hannah burst into giggles, “It is something to celebrate isn’t it? Not dying at the hands of a bloodthirsty Mountain Troll in the girl’s bathrooms?”

Hermione laughed, but she was not the only one that did. The other laugh came from a bronze-haired, grey-eyed boy, who was tall and very handsome, Hermione noted. 

“That sounds like a story I have to hear.”

“Cedric Diggory!” Hannah cried out, “Were you _eavesdropping?”_

The boy-Cedric Diggory - Hermione corrected herself - grinned at Hannah easily, a teasing glint in his eye. “Well, after seeing a second year pull out some confetti, I had to know what the fuss was all about.”

“Hermione,” Hannah turned to her Slytherin friend, “This is Cedric Diggory. He’s my House Buddy.” 

Before Hermione could ask what a House Buddy was, Hannah waved her hand, “It’s a Hufflepuff thing, you get someone two years ahead of you as your House Buddy. They look after you until you’re a third year and then you return the favour for the incoming first years. Oh, and he’s also the Seeker for Hufflepuff.”

“Nice to meet you, Cedric,” Hermione smiled. “And Hannah, I know that I’m not absolutely _obsessed_ with Quidditch, but I _do_ know who the Seekers are for each house. Give me _some_ credit here.”

Cedric seemed bemused. “You don’t like Quidditch?”

Hermione rolled her eyes lightly, “Well, I like watching it when my friends are playing, and I can keep score and whatever, but I don’t get the obsession around it.”

“She also hates flying,” Hannah inserted.

“I don’t _hate_ flying, I just don’t care for it. It’s the heights and falling off that I hate.”

“And yet she’s never fallen off.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not afraid of it,” Hermione said lightly.

Cedric grinned, “Like how Hannah’s afraid of eating potatoes?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. 

“I am not afraid of potatoes, I just don’t eat them! Being afraid of a potato is _ridiculous_ ,” Hannah shot back.

“Avoidance, fear…” Hermione trailed off. “What’s the difference, really?”

“Well this is all very well and good,” said Hannah, flushing scarlet, “Didn’t Cedric come over here to learn about our troll-slaying adventures?”

“That was the worst attempt at subtly changing a subject ever, Hannah,” Cedric teased.

“He’s right, you know,” said Hermione, “Pansy would be disappointed.” 

“But I _would_ like to hear the story about you two defeating a troll, although I’m quite sure it’s not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be.”

Hannah smiled, “No, actually, it kind of was. See, Ron Weasley had said something really nasty to me in Herbology that day, and I was upset. Hermione followed me into the girls’ loo after Charm to help calm me down, and we missed the Samhain feast because of it. So, we didn’t know there was a troll in Hogwarts until it came into the bathroom. So...we fought it off. With spells. Hermione cast this one really brilliant one with these birds that started attacking him out of nowhere, which was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. And then we managed to Stun it at the same time, so it fell down, and we only _just_ got out of the way in time,” Hannah finished breathlessly.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Hermione nodded. “Even got points for it too, for, as Professor Snape called it, sheer luck and skill.” 

Cedric looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then threw his head back in laughter. Hermione thought that he had quite a nice laugh.

* * *

That night at the feast, Hermione laughed herself sick at the Samhain festivities. Although Dumbledore insisted on calling it Halloween, that was most certainly _not_ what Slytherin was celebrating. It was Ginny’s second time celebrating something in honour of Lady Magic, but Mabon hadn’t meant all that much to her when she had celebrated on September 21st, as she hadn’t had as much time to learn about Magic.

“I don’t know who I’d really try and talk to, you know?” Ginny said, as she grabbed a decadent candy apple from a platter in the middle of the table. “The only people in my family that I know anything about that’ve died are my grandparents on both sides, and my Mum’s brothers-Fabian and Gideon. My Weasley grandparents were rotters, and my Prewett grandparents were terribly boring when they were alive. Hated going over to their house when I was little. Supposedly Fabian and Gideon were pretty cool. But I never met them, you know? Maybe Fred and George’ll try to summon Fabian and Gideon next year, they’ve always looked up to them. But they don’t really know anything about Magic yet. When _can_ I tell them about that?” 

“You can tell them whenever, really,” shrugged Daphne, “Although most people tend to wait until they’re an Honorary Slytherin. You can try and get them voted in at the next House Meeting, which should be midway through November.”

“So, Ginny, how’s first year going anyways?” Draco asked. 

Ginny’s face lit up. “Pretty great, actually. I’m better at Potions than I thought I’d be, and I think I like Astronomy a lot. At least, I really like Professor Sinistra. Transfiguration is a little weird with Professor McGonagall, I don’t think she knows what to think of me. I mean, I think she likes me well enough, but I’m the first Slytherin Weasley in like...ever. And with all my brothers, she’s probably still trying to figure out where I fall on the scale from Percy to the twins.”

“Hermione over here has got Professor McGonagall wrapped around her little finger,” Theo smirked. 

“ _How_ ?” asked Ginny. “Well, besides being a prodigy at literally _everything._ ” 

“I have no idea,” said Hermione lightly, “On a completely unrelated note, have I ever mentioned how good I am at crying on cue and coming out of any situation without looking remotely suspicious?” 

Pansy snorted, “The only teacher who doesn’t absolutely _adore_ you is Binns. And that’s only because he’s been dead for three hundred years. I mean, you don’t even _like_ Lockhart and he practically _dotes_ on you and Daphne.”

Daphne growled, “That’s because he’s an idiot who can’t tell when someone is placating him because he’s being a moron.”

It was true. Whenever Daphne had to deal with Lockhart, she masked her emotions behind a Perfect-Pure-blood-Princess facade exaggerated to the point of hyperbole. Anyone who wasn’t missing half a _brain_ knew it was fake. Even some of the Gryffindors giggled at her antics. Lockhart was the only one who didn’t catch on. 

“We make excellent damsels in distress,” Hermione shrugged, “He’d do it to you too, Pansy, but you don’t even try to hide that you hate him.”

“I refuse to let stupid people think that they are anything but stupid. I can’t _wait_ until the DADA Curse gets to him. Maybe he’ll be like Quirrell and drop dead,” Pansy grinned as she turned to Blaise. “Blaise, do you think your mother could try and snag him, or is he not rich enough for her?”

By the time the feast was over, Hermione and her friends were some of the first people out of the Great Hall, laughing over a Lockhart impression Theo was pulling, with Blaise filling in for his mother. 

“Oh, _Gilderoy_ ,” Blaise said dramatically, fluttering his lashes at Theo, “You’re so smart and funny and handsome.”  
Theo puffed out his chest, trying to imitate Lockhart’s gait. “I know-”

But whatever he was about to say was cut off by Daphne’s shrill scream. And there it was, on the wall, lit by two ominously flickering torches upon the wall, written in the color of blood that had yet to dry.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

But that? That was not the worst of it. What was _truly_ terrifying was Argus Filch’s mangy old cat, Mrs. Norris, hanging from her tail from a torch bracket, her legs stuck in odd angles as if she was jumping mid-air. She was absolutely frozen. Unblinking, stiff, and unmoving. Hermione would have thought that the cat was dead if its limbs had been at all limp.

It took her a moment to register anything other than the cat, but all of a sudden she realised that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were standing there, gaping at the wall, and they had obviously been doing so for some time. Had they-? 

While she considered that possibility, more and more people started coming in from either side. More people meant more murmurs, more whispers. Some of the newcomers shrieked, just as Daphne had done, at the horrific sight.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Attracted no doubt by the shrill screams, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. 

Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror. “My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” he shrieked. He looked at Potter. “You!” he screeched. “You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll —” 

“Argus!” Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Potter and Weasley and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. 

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley.” 

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore. The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. Hermione saw Draco catching his godfather’s eye, to which the Professor had stared at him, subtly passing under the boy’s Occlumency walls.

Draco turned to the group, and in a hushed whisper said, “I let Uncle Sev pass through my Occlumency Shields-he said he’d tell us what happened later.”

“He’d better,” Pansy muttered, “I’m going to go find Hannah.” And with that, the dark-haired girl turned on her heel and stalked off in search of their Hufflepuff friend. 

In the Slytherin common room, there was a rather large and loud House Debate going on. 

“The cat was _dead_ , Winnie! Professor Trelawney said something would _die_ this October, and _look!”_

“Maureen, two weeks ago you were convinced that the death she was talking about was your plant in Herbology! And anyways, the cat isn’t dead-it wouldn’t have been erect!”

“You know what else is erect-”

“Shut _up,_ Travis!”

“The Chamber of Secrets was made by Slytherin-”

“So the Heir has to be a descendent of Slytherin!”

“But there aren’t any Gaunts in our house, are there?”

“I imagine that if there _were_ anybody connected to the Gaunts you’d be able to tell. They'd have three eyes or something, they’re so inbred.”

“And I imagine being able to trace your family directly back to Slytherin would be something _anyone_ would brag about.”

“What if they’re in a different house?”

“Why wouldn’t they be in Slytherin? If they’re a direct descendent, they would be in Slytherin, right? I mean, the Smiths are always in Hufflepuff-”

“Yeah okay, but they _know_ that they’re descended from Hufflepuff. If there was some random Muggle-born who came from a line of squibs that led back to Ravenclaw, they wouldn’t necessarily be in Ravenclaw, would they?”

“More of an expectation thing? Nature versus nurture and all that?”

“What if it’s a teacher?”  
“Well the only new teacher this year is Lockhart, right?”

“If it turns out he’s descended from Slytherin, I'll jump off the Astronomy Tower.”

Amidst the chaos, Blaise cleared his throat, “Can anybody explain to the Italian who doesn’t know a lick about Hogwarts history or any of that what the hell a Chamber of Secrets is? It sounds like some sort of sex dungeon or something.”

“Blaise!” Hermione hit his arm, scandalised.

It seemed that Thomas had heard Blaise because he shot his wand into the air, creating blasting noises, causing everyone to quiet, “Alright everyone!” he shouted, their attention focused on him, “We’re going to sit down and Carrine can tell the story of the Chamber of Secrets, and anyone who has anything to add can raise their hands and we can discuss it civilly. We are _Slytherins_ , not Gryffindors.”

Carrine cleared her throat. “I don’t know all too much about Hogwarts History-is there anyone that does?” 

Daphne, who had been quietly stewing, wearing what Hermione knew to be her _thinking_ face-the face she wore when she was trying to recall everything she knew about a Historical Event or figure or whatever, shot up like a Filibuster’s Firework. “I do!” 

Pansy-who had rejoined them by then - snorted, “And in other breaking news from the Daily Prophet, grass is green.”

Daphne made her way up to the front of the room by the fireplace, and stood on one of the chairs, before looking at Carrine a bit uncertainly, who nodded at her. Daphne straightened up, and pulled back her shoulders. The entire House of Slytherin looked on, waiting.

“Well, when the Founders founded Hogwarts, it was the first major school for learning Witchcraft and Wizardry. At the time, of course, Muggles were burning Witches and Wizards at the stake, and since most were largely untrained, only learning what had been taught to them by their parents, a lot of magical people were killed. So they wanted to remedy that by building a school-somewhere people could get a comprehensive magical education. Salazar Slytherin didn’t _hate_ Muggle-borns, he just...didn’t really like them all that much. Which wasn’t _great_ , but he didn’t want to commit mass-genocide on them.” The common room collectively flinched, memories of You-Know-Who and the marks left by the war still tender.

After a moment, Daphne continued. “But he did hate Muggles. And can you blame him? They were burning Wizards and Witches at the stake left, right, and centre So, he thought that they should be more _selective_ , per sae, when choosing students, as many recruitments of Muggle-born students had led to close calls with the Muggles in the students’ families. Maybe even keeping them out, which _was_ kind of predjudiced on his part. This led to a rather big argument between him and Godric Gryffindor over all the Muggle-borns, which ended up with Slytherin leaving the school. But apparently, according to his old journals, he built a Secret Chamber within Hogwarts, to protect its students from those who told Muggles about magic, which by-and-large tended to be the Muggle-born. I mean it was bigoted, him kind of basically targeting the Muggle-borns with the Chamber, but it was supposed to be a last-resort kind of thing, not that that’s really any excuse.” Daphne took a deep breath. 

“Anyway, supposedly, nobody would be able to open the Chamber until Slytherin’s ‘true heir’ came to Hogwarts, who would be able to use whatever's in the Chamber to rid the school of anything or anybody they perceived to be dangerous. But of course, that all depends on what the Heir wanted to do. I mean, they could set whatever is in the Chamber on someone who insulted them, if they liked, so if the Heir was a complete nutter psychopath, they could even decide to murder the whole of the school. Apparently, the Chamber was opened about fifty years ago, and a Muggle-born named Myrtle Warren died, although it was all hushed up by the Ministry. According to the Ministry records, the person who opened the Chamber was none other than Rubeus Hagrid, our current groundskeeper.”

Murmurs broke out.

“Why’s he still here then?” someone called out.

Daphne shrugged, “I suppose Dumbledore felt sorry for him or something. Besides, I don’t think Hagrid really opened the Chamber. He’s clearly part giant, and if the Gaunts thought they were too good to reproduce with anyone but themselves, I doubt that they would’ve introduced Giant-Blood into their line.”

And with that, Daphne hopped off the chair and made her way back over towards Hermione. “How’d you know all that?” Hermione asked. “I mean, I get knowing some of it through all the stories and legends, but like the stuff about fifty years ago? _I_ didn’t know that.”

“I learned about the Chamber a couple of years ago, and then I started asking around. Uncle Lucius knew a bit and then pointed me in the direction of Walburga Black, so I ended up going over to Grimmauld and asking her. And as ghastly as Walburga was, she _had_ gone to school during the time the Chamber was opened for the first time, and so she was able to tell me everything that happened. Of course she used the m-slur more times than I could count and then said that it was a shame that the Heir didn’t kill more Muggle-borns. But through all the bigotry, I was able to get out what had happened.”

Then Professor Snape came through the common room, and everyone fell quiet. 

“It appears the cat was petrified.”

And then pandemonium erupted once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like Cedric because we're going to start seeing more and more of him...


	19. A Very Thin Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my incredible beta FalconHonour. Chapters 2 and 3 are now beta'd and edited!

Draco was convinced Potter had had something to do with the Chamber opening, and so he, Blaise, and Theo had taken to following Potter and Weasley. Hence why the three boys found themselves lurking on the second floor, close to the girls’ loo the two Gryffindors had decided to enter.

Tucked away in an alcove, they hardly had to strain to hear the words that echoed from the toilets, not with the way they vibrated through the walls.

“These are the girls’ toilets,” said a weepy sounding female voice, “You’re not girls.”

Blaise started snickering. Theo shushed him hurriedly.

“No-” said Potter, “We just… wanted to come in here and um…” His voice trailed off, and Weasley must’ve been whispering something into his ear because a great wail echoed through the hallway. 

“What are you whispering?” asked the female voice, before letting out another keening wail.

“Nothing,” Potter said quickly, “We wanted to ask —”

“I wish people would stop talking behind my back!” said the girl, in a voice choked with tears. “I do have feelings, you know, even if —” 

“Myrtle, no one wants to upset you,” said Weasley. “Harry only —” 

The boys looked at each other. Who was Myrtle?

“No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!” howled Myrtle. “My life was nothing but misery in this place and now people come along ruining my  _ death! _ ” 

“She must be a ghost then,” Theo whispered.

“Maybe the girls will know something about her?” suggested Blaise.

“Shut up,” whispered Draco sharply, “They’re talking again!”

“We wanted to ask you if you’ve seen anything funny lately,” said Weasley. “Because a cat was attacked right outside your door while we were - I mean, while we were all down at the Halloween feast.” 

“Did you see anyone near here that night?” Potter asked. 

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Myrtle said dramatically. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m — that I’m —” 

“Already dead,” said Weasley.

Theo rolled his eyes as a great sob erupted from the bathroom, followed by a great splash. Draco peered out of the alcove for a better look, only to be pulled back in immediately by Blaise. When Draco scowled at him, the Italian pointed at Percy Weasley, who was striding down the hall. 

“RON!” Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, Prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock and anger on his face. “That’s a girls’ toilet!” he gasped. “What were you — ?” 

The Slytherin boys grinned at each other, before their shoulders started shaking with silent laughter.

“Just having a look around,” Ron shrugged. “Clues, you know —” 

Percy Weasley swelled up, looking quite a bit like a peacock, before barking at Potter and Weasley, “Get — away — from — there! You can’t— shouldn’t— you aren’t supposed to be in there!”

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” said Weasley hotly, glaring at his brother. “Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!” 

“Look, I know that, but does the rest of the castle?”

“You’re just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy —” 

“Five points from Gryffindor!” Percy Weasley said, rather crisply. “And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I’ll write to Mum!” 

Ron Weasley grumbled something under his breath as his older brother had stalked away. “Come on, Harry,” he muttered, as he stomped in the opposite direction.

Blaise peered down both ends of the hallway. “We’re good.”

As the three walked back to the dungeons, theories were tossed around haphazardly.

“Potter in the bathroom, with a ghost. It sounds rather like a game of Cluedo, don’t you think?” Theo laughed.

“Yeah, but do you remember how mad Percy Weasley was?” asked Draco. “He took points. From his own brother. Bertram would never do that to me, and we’re only second cousins.”

“It is a little suspicious, I think,” Blaise said lowly, “I mean, why was he even by the second floor girls’ toilet in the first place? I mean, it’s where the cat was petrified. Most of the school is avoiding it like the plague.”

“Ron Weasley and Potter were there-and so were we,” Theo pointed out.

“Yeah, but they were doing ‘detective work’,” said Draco, “And we were spying on them. So that’s our excuse. What excuse does Percy Weasley have?” 

“Maybe it was something to do with his Prefect duties? Or maybe he was going somewhere?” Theo suggested.

“Nah,” said Blaise, “I’m with Draco on this one. If it was Prefect duties, we would’ve seen another Prefect-they always go in pairs. And as for going somewhere, there’s really nothing else by there. And even if there were, he could take an alternative route so that he didn’t have to pass the walls with writing in blood on them.”

“Maybe he’s into that sort of stuff?” Theo shrugged, “I’m not going to pretend to understand Gryffindors and their weird desire for danger.”

“I’ll never understand Gryffindors period,” Blaise laughed.

* * *

The first Quidditch Match of the season was that Saturday, between Gryffindor and Slytherin. As ever, it was highly anticipated, despite the inclement weather. The clouds were grey and the air was humid even for November. Nonetheless, the stands were packed out with students dressed in green and silver or red and gold, their banners, hats and flags waving in the wind. 

As the Slytherin team walked out to the center of the pitch, Draco rolled his shoulders back and set his jaw. He wanted to win. More than that, he  _ needed _ to win. As Marcus shook hands with the Gryffindor captain, Madame Hooch blew her whistle, and each player took off to the sky. 

Draco spotted Potter shoot up into the air, and decided to follow, speeding around the Gryffindor Seeker on his broomstick. 

“All right there, Scarhead?” yelled Draco, and Potter glared at him. 

And then a Bludger shot past Potter’s head, missing by mere inches. One of the twins came by on their broom, knocking the Bludger towards Pucey, but curiously, it changed directions halfway, like a boomerang. This time, Draco had to swoop away from Potter to avoid the path of the Bludger, and he furrowed his brow. What was up with the Bludger?

As Potter flew to the other side of the stadium, Draco started patrolling the edges of the stadium, on the lookout for the Snitch. He spared a moment to glance towards the Slytherin Chasers, who were doing exceptionally well, just as rain started to fall in fat drops. 

“Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero —” came the commentator. 

Satisfied, Draco returned his focus to hunting for the Snitch, but found himself distracted by Potter’s absurd twirls and jumps to avoid the Bludger. It was definitely targeting him, for whatever reason. Although Draco had to admit he wasn’t too unhappy about the player that it had chosen to target, the Slytherin win could be jeopardised if the Gryffindors kicked up enough of a fuss and started pointing fingers. 

The shrill screech of the whistle interrupted Draco’s thoughts, and he pulled up. Hovering, he watched Wood call a timeout, and the twins and Potter land beside him. They seemed to convene for a few moments, before the rest of the Gryffindor team came to join in. After five minutes of their timeout, with the crowd starting to jeer at the interruption in play, the Gryffindor team seemed to come to a conclusion, and returned to the skies. 

Draco continued to look for the Snitch, but then his eyes settled on Potter. He came to a horrifying realization. Potter was right in front of the Slytherin stands. Right where all his friends were sitting. Right where Hermione was sitting, and the Bludger was obviously still targeting him. If he dodged out of the way, the Bludger might go straight into the Slytherin stands. 

Draco gripped his broom tightly, as he raced to where Potter was, facing his back towards the stands. He was determined that the Bludger would not go near Hermione. He’d fly in front of it before he’d let that happen. 

Potter did a little twirl to avoid the Bludger yet again, and Draco sneered at him. “Training for the ballet, Potter?” Potter glared at him. “Get away from the stands,” Draco yelled. 

Potter looked absolutely livid as he continued avoiding the Bludger, refusing to stray from the Slytherin stands. And for a moment he paused and-WHAM. Draco winced as the Bludger knocked into Potter’s elbows, and he heard a crack. As the Bludger swung at Potter again, the Gryffindor started hanging part ways off of the side, and came slowly towards Draco, with some sort of a crazed gleam in his eye. Maybe it was from the pain? And then-then Potter rushed at Draco - was he attacking him? Draco was vaguely aware of the screams of the crowds that were maybe ten feet away, as Potter lunged at him. Draco backed up, to get out of the boy’s way, but continued trying to protect the Slytherin stands. Potter’s hand closed around something and Draco realized belatedly that it was the Snitch. Then, Potter fell perhaps twenty feet to the ground, into the mud. 

Draco flew back to the rest of the Slytherins and landed beside them somewhat dejectedly. He hardened his face, waiting for the tongue-lashing he was sure Flint, at least, would give him for costing his team the game. 

“Draco!” Thomas called out, haring to meet him halfway. Draco braced himself for the worst. “You bloody Gryffindor!” The impassioned Prefect looked...relieved? “Putting yourself in danger like that? Going near Potter when the Bludger was going at him? You could’ve been seriously hurt!” 

“But-”

“Salazar, Carrine’s going to get it in her head that I told you to go for the Snitch or die trying or something psychotic like that. I mean, we’re your Prefects, we’re meant to protect you guys!”

“I-”

The rest of the team raced over to the two in waves. Emmeline scowled at Thomas. “Thomas, shut up! He wasn’t going for the Snitch, he was protecting the people in the stands!”

Thomas looked at Draco, eyes wide, “Shit, Draco, that’s…”

“It’s just... the Bludger was after Potter, and he started staying out near the Slytherin stands, right in front of all my friends, and I didn’t want them to get hit by the Bludger, and-”

Marcus Flint rolled his eyes. “See, Thomas? Stop worrying. I’ll deal with your girlfriend.”

Draco suddenly felt a force fly into him, and stumbled backwards before catching his balance.

“Don’t you ever do something so reckless again, Draco!” cried a distraught Hermione. He suddenly found himself crowded by the rest of his friends.

Overwhelmed and confused by the lack of anger, Draco cried out, “But I didn’t see the Snitch, even though it was right under my nose. I cost us the game!” 

Marcus fixed him with a confused look. “So? We only lost by ten points. We’re still very much in the running for the Cup. And, whatever anyone might have told you about my feelings to the contrary, it’s far more important that none of us get seriously injured than that we win. We Slytherins take care of our own, and that’s exactly what you did today. We’re not going to be all pissy because you were more concerned with protecting your friends than winning a game.”

* * *

The chaos back in England started on November first. Astoria raced through the halls of Greengrass Manor, brandishing a letter above her head.. 

She thundered into the living room. “Muuuuuum! Daaaaaad! We have a letter from Daphne and Hermione!” 

Hyperion and Selene exchanged an amused glance. Letters from Hogwarts was a weekly occurrence, and yet their youngest daughter was equally dramatic every single time. 

“Alright, Astoria,” Hyperion chuckled. “Do you want to read this one?”

Astoria grinned, and hastily opened the letter before clearing her throat.  _ “‘Dear Mother, Father, and Astoria- _ ’” she grinned,  _ “‘This week has been absolutely filled to the brim. First off, Emmeline is going on a date’ _ -What?!” Astoria shrieked.

“Keep on reading the letter, Astoria,” Selene chided gently, though she was smiling as she said it.

“‘ _ With Fred Weasley. They’re going to Hogsmeade together. We think it took them more than enough time. Fred accidentally declared his love for her in front of the entire Slytherin table during the first breakfast of the term, so a date is in order, we think. Emmeline still hides that she likes him so much, a bit, but she’s really starting to show her feelings. I think they’ll make a cute couple _ ’-This next part is in Daphne’s handwriting,'' Astoria announced. “ _ ‘Speaking of a cute couple, Hermione met this boy named Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff and they’ve been talking a lot. He’s a fourth year, and he’s Hannah’s mentor in her house, and he’s really handsome. Even Hermione thinks so-though she totally won’t admit it-’ _ and now it’s Hermione again.  _ ‘Daphne exaggerates. He’s very nice, and we’ve only had a handful of conversations. I’m afraid though that that’s the end of the happy and light-hearted portion of our letter.’”  _ Astoria frowned. _ “‘On our way back to the Dungeons after the Halloween Feast tonight,we saw Potter and Ron Weasley in front of the caretaker’s petrified cat, and a message written in blood. It said that the Chamber of the Secrets has been opened and Enemies of the Heir beware.’  _ Astoria stopped reading, and wrinkled her nose, “What does that even mean?”

It was at that moment, as if on cue, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy came bursting into the room, slightly disheveled from Floo travel and out of breath, Lucius clutching a letter. 

“Lucius,” Hyperion’s voice was low, “What in Merlin’s name is the Chamber of Secrets?”

Lucius collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands. “Is it too much to ask for our children to be safe?” he let out a sigh, then looked up to answer Hyperion’s question,. “The Chamber of Secrets was this story my father used to tell me as a child. It was this secret chamber built by Salazar Slytherin, with a monster inside. According to my father, Slytherin planned to use the monster to dispose of the ‘filth’-as he called it-at Hogwarts. The Chamber was opened in his time at Hogwarts and a Muggleborn ended up dying before they could stop the attacks. My father said the Chamber could only be opened by the ‘Heir of Slytherin’.”

“That makes no sense,” Selene’s brow furrowed, “The Gaunts died out in the forties, did they not?”

“Wait a moment,” Narcissa looked up sharply, “Didn’t the Dark Lord claim to be descended from Slytherin? Could he have been a Gaunt, or at least have Gaunt blood?”

“I can look through the old yearbooks in the Hogwarts Library the next time there’s a Governors meeting,” Lucius suggested. 

“We can also pay a visit to Little Hangleton. Isn’t that where the Gaunts used to live?” Hyperion asked. 

“I’ll come with you, and we can bring Sirius along, once we get him up to speed.” Lucius replied. “I may not  _ like _ my cousin by marriage, but we may need all the manpower we can get-the Gaunts were suspicious bastards, and I wouldn’t put it past them to have warded their house to high heaven.”

“And what are Cissa and I to do?” Selene asked sharply, “Sit here and have tea while our children are in danger?”

“No-” Hyperion started to say before he was interrupted by Narcissa.

“We’ll poke around in the Ministry and see what we can find, and see if there’s anything suspicious in Knockturn Alley.”

Lucius looked alarmed. “Cissy, are you sure-” 

“Lucius,  _ darling _ , have you forgotten my maiden name?” Narcissa flashed her husband a sickly sweet smile that had him quaking in his boots, “Selene and I can take care of ourselves.”

“We know,” Hyperion raised his hands, in a placating gesture, “We just want you to be out of harm's way.”

Selene’s eyes flashed. “Our children are in a castle where a monster is out for blood. Keep this up, and you’ll be sleeping in one of the guest rooms for the next  _ month. _ And Lucius, don’t think that Narcissa wouldn’t do the same to you..”

The two men quickly stopped their protests.

“Is there anything that I can do?” Astoria asked innocently, swinging her legs. All of the adults jumped and swung round, suddenly remembering that they were not the only ones in the room. “I mean, I can go to Hogwarts and start trying to find the monster. Or I could-” she looked up to see the horrified faces around the room, and groaned “...Or I could stay home like a stupid old princess locked away in a boring old tower and miss out on all the cool stuff,  _ as usual. _ ”


	20. I've Never Heard Silence Quite This Loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my incredible beta, FalconHonour. Chapter 4 is now up and beta'd so that's cool too!

The day that the school found out that Colin Creevey had been found in a corridor, petrified, the fear really started to creep in. A cat was one thing, but a person? That was an entirely different matter. 

“I’m telling you, Potter has  _ got _ to have something to do with it!” Draco snapped at dinner one night, “I mean he must’ve gotten fed up with the kid following him around all the time. Who else would dislike Creevey enough to try and do him in?”

“But Potter isn’t related to Slytherin, at least not on the Potter side,” Hermione had pointed out, “Don’t you remember  _ any _ of your genealogy lessons?”

“But what about on his Mum’s side?” Theo suggested, before Draco could retort, “We never learn about Muggleborns. There could be a Squib descendant of Slytherin somewhere in the Evans family, right?

“You know, everyone’s very lucky that  _ I’m  _ not the Heir of Slytherin,” Pansy smirked, “I’d set the monster on anyone that annoyed me.”

“That’s like ninety-nine percent of the school, Pansy,” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Exactly. That’s why I said  _ everyone _ .”

“Aw, Pansy, what about us? Would you petrify me?” Daphne asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“Debatable,” Pansy smirked, as her voice turned into a sing-song. “Depends on whether or not you help me with the History of Magic homework tonight.”

“Of course!” Daphne grinned, before continuing solemnly, “Anything for the Heir of Slytherin.”

Underneath their joking, however, lay a sense of unease, much like the one that was infecting the rest of Hogwarts. Which was why they’d decided to go to the Dueling Club on the night for the first and second years.

When Gilderoy Lockhart came prancing out onto the stage, Daphne glowered. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was  _ him  _ teaching this. I thought it would be Flitwick, or maybe Snape.”

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.” He winked at the crowd.

“As if he hasn’t made us buy seven of his books already,” Draco had snarked under his breath. Hermione stifled a giggle.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!” 

“Oh this is wonderful,” Pansy said, “Look at Professor Snape. Here comes the curse against the seat of the Professor of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher! A whole six months early! I could sing!”

The two Professors bowed to one another, although Lockhart’s bow was a ridiculous little dance of sorts and Snape’s was more of a curt nod. They raised their wands.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart said. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” He took a deep breath. “One — two — three —”

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. 

A cheer arose from the Slytherins in the crowd, as Lockhart unsteadily scrambled to his feet, looking rather disheveled. 

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand —” he looked around for his wand, before noticing Lavender Brown waving it in the air, and plucked it from her fingers. “Ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . .” Professor Snape looked ready to kill, and Lockhart scrambled to fix his error. “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —” 

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Draco looked rather gleeful when Professor Snape led Weasley and Potter over towards their little group. “Mr. Malfoy, let’s see what you make of the  _ famous  _ Potter. Mr. Nott, you can partner with Weasley. Mr. Zabini, let’s put you with Finnigan over there. Miss Hermione Greengrass, I’d like you to go with Miss Parkinson. Miss Daphne Greengrass, let’s put you with Miss Abbott, and Miss Weasley, I’d like you to duel Miss Flora Carrow.”

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform. “And bow!” 

Hermione grinned at Pansy, who smirked back, and they both gave quick bows. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Harry and Draco barely even nodding at each other. She inclined her head in the direction of the two boys and Pansy started shaking with silent laughter.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents — one . . . two . . . three —” 

Hermione and Pansy leveled their wands at each other.

“ _ Tarantallegra!” _ Hermione shouted, as Pansy hit her with an “ _ Adher Tempus!” _

Hermione giggled as she was frozen in place, unable to move her feet. “Help me out here, Pansy?” 

“Fine,” said Pansy, glaring at her while doing a rather intricate tap-dance. “Just as long as you can make me stop dancing.”

They pointed their wands at each other and shouted, “ _ Finite Incantatem _ !”

Pansy glowered at Hermione, though it lacked heat. “You’re so lucky I’m not the Heir of Slytherin, or I’d absolutely kill you here and now.”

Hermione grinned cheekily. “You’d miss me though.”

“Debatable.”

Suddenly, a green smoke erupted and Hermione started coughing roughly. “What  _ is  _ that?”

She turned towards the source, to see Ron Weasley pointing a wand that was badly taped together at Blaise. 

_ “ _ Circe, Merlin and Morgana, give me strength _ , _ ” Hermione murmured to herself, as she rubbed her temples. 

He had  _ kept  _ his broken wand? Seriously? Was Weasley suicidal or something? And then, she heard Professor Snape cry out “ _ Finite Incantatem!” _

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you go, Macmillan. . . . Careful there, Miss Fawcett. . . . Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot — I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. 

He glanced at Snape who looked at him, rolling his eyes, as if to say ‘Obviously’. 

“Let’s have a volunteer pair — Weasley and Zabini, how about you —” Blaise looked up, panicked at the idea of having to go against Ron’s broken wand again. Sure, this time it had just been green smoke, but with a broken wand? A simple itching hex could potentially make the victim’s skin peel off or backfire and do the same to the caster. A stunning spell with a broken wand? That wasn’t something anyone wanted to be in the room for.

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” Professor Snape, cut in smoothly, looking at Blaise, who looked like he could’ve cried in relief. “Weasley causes devastation with the simplest spells with that twig he has the audacity to call a wand. We’ll be sending what’s left of Mister Zabini up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Weasley’s face went the same colour as his hair. Professor Snape’s eyes scanned the crowd, before settling on Draco. Snape smirked. “How about Malfoy and Potter?”

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Potter and Draco up on to the platform.

Hermione watched with bated breath as Snape whispered something into Draco’s ear, who turned to his godfather with unmasked awe. Meanwhile, Lockhart was wiggling his wand, before he dropped it. “Whoops — my wand is a little overexcited —”

Potter turned to Lockhart, looking nervous. “Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?” The second time around was just the same as the first-dropping of the wand included. Lockhart ushered Potter to the center of the platform, where Draco and Professor Snape were waiting. The boys seemed to exchange whispers underneath their breaths, before Lockhart cuffed Potter on the shoulder. “Just do what I did, Harry!”

The boys walked seven paces away from each other, and turned around, raising their wands.

Lockhart looked on, excitedly. “Three — two — one — go!” he shouted.

Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!” A large black snake burst from the tip of his wand, and landed on the floor with a great  _ thud _ , it’s hood rising, ready to strike. Shrieks erupted throughout the crowd.

“What is he  _ doing?”  _ Hermione hissed to Pansy.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Pansy snickered. “I think it’s quite brilliant on his part.”

Professor Snape looked proudly at Draco. “Don’t move, Potter,” he said, although he made no movement to stop the snake. “I’ll get rid of it. . . .”

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart, leaping into action. He pointed his wand at the snake, and a great  _ bang  _ burst through the air, as the snake shot up ten feet, and fell to the floor with a loud smacking noise. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchey, a Hufflepuff Hermione sat across from in Charms, and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. 

Ever the Gryffindor, Potter ran towards them and then  _ hissed  _ something at the snake. 

“He’s speaking  _ Parseltongue _ ,” Hermione breathed, “Oh Draco, of all the times to test a theory!-” The snake remained poised in the air, seconds from striking. “Is Potter encouraging the snake to attack Justin?”

“Probably, I don’t know,” Pansy whispered, biting sarcasm lacing her voice, “Sorry, I don’t speak Parseltongue.”

After a moment of shared terror, the room released its collective breath as the snake collapsed into non-existence with a puff of black smoke as Snape waved his wand.

. Potter looked up at the Hufflepuff boy, grinning. 

“What kind of a sick person-” Hermione started, as Pansy let out a truly impressive string of curses. Hermione, too caught up in what had just occurred, didn’t even think to admonish Pansy for her language. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re playing at?” Justin shouted, and before Potter could say anything, he had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Potter looked after him, nonplussed, but Weasley grabbed the dark-haired boy by the back of his robes, and yanked him out of the Hall before he could protest. The students around him rushed away, trampling over themselves to get away from Potter. Draco came down from the platform, his hands shaking, He rushed towards Hermione and Pansy and the others ran to meet him, so that they met in the middle.

“Is Potter-?” Ginny began.

“He’s a  _ Parselmouth _ ,” Hannah murmured.

“Just like Slytherin. That trait only goes down through families,” Theo said.

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione murmured, as her hands and feet started going numb. “He’s the-”

“ _ Don’t say it!” _ Daphne hissed.

Even Pansy looked worried. “He  _ hates  _ us.”

Hannah’s breathing turned shallow. “What am I going to do? At least you can all trace your Magical lineage back Merlin knows how far. my Mum’s a Muggleborn!”

“You’re not to go anywhere alone, Hannah,” Pansy snapped.

“None of us should,” said Draco, “Pure-blood or not, Potter hates our guts.  _ None  _ of us will be going anywhere alone.”

* * *

Hannah chewed on her nails nervously as she sat at a table in the library with Ernie MacMillian, Susan Bones, Caroline Purvis and Cedric Diggory. She had come to the library with Hermione, who had wandered off to find a book Justin had recommended in Charms that morning. Their discussion, naturally, focused on the events of the Dueling Club last night. 

“So anyway,” Ernie said, “I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggleborn. Justin actually told him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?” 

“Are you sure it’s Potter, Ernie?” Caroline Purvis asked. “I mean, he’s seemed alright to me.”

“Caroline,” said Ernie, “he’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? Herpo the Foul, Ivan the Terrible, even bloody You-Know-Who! They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.” He was met with deathly silence. Hannah’s hands started shaking. “Remember what was written on the wall?” He continued, seemingly oblivious to the terror he was stoking in each of them, “ Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s been attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey’s been attacked.”

“But-he’s  _ seemed  _ nice, right?” Caroline sounded like she was trying to convince herself at that point.

“He’s not really all that nice,” Cedric pointed out, his eyes flashing, “He and his  _ friend _ Ron Weasley have said some pretty nasty things to Hannah and her friends in Slytherin, especially Hermione Greengrass. I mean, they’re the whole reason Hannah and Hermione almost got killed by a troll the Samhain of their First Year,”The whole table nodded their heads, and Hannah flushed. She had told all of her friends in Hufflepuff about the troll incident once she and Hermione had opened up to Cedric and it had spread throughout the house fairly quickly. Between the troll incident involving her and what had just happened to Justin Finch-Fletchey, Hufflepuff was turning on Harry Potter and Ron Weasley pretty quickly.

“And since you’re a third year, Caroline, you weren’t at our Dueling Club,” Susan said. “You should’ve seen Potter! He was  _ encouraging  _ the snake to  _ attack  _ Justin!”

“But - he can’t be Dark, right? I mean, he defeated You-Know-Who?” Caroline asked, albeit weakly.

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, and the Hufflepuffs leaned in to catch what he was saying. “No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that,” He dropped his voice even further, until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, “That’s probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter’s been hiding?” 

And then, like something out of a horror story, Potter stepped out from behind the bookshelves, clearing his throat. “Hello,” said Potter. “I’m looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley.” 

The table reeled, looking to Ernie, as he knew the most, and Cedric, as he was the oldest. 

“What do you want with him?” said Cedric, his voice hard. Hannah almost flinched. She’d never heard her buddy sound so cold before. 

“I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club,” said Potter.

Ernie bit his lip, and took a deep breath. “We were all there. We saw what happened.” 

“Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?” said Potter. 

“All I saw,” said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, “was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin.” 

“I didn’t chase it at him!” Potter said, his voice shaking with anger. “It didn’t even  _ touch  _ him!” 

“It was a very near miss! It would have bitten him if Professor Snape hadn’t Vanished it!” cried Ernie.

“And Colin!” Susan interjected, her cheeks flushing . “I was talking to Terry Boot and he said he’d overheard you complaining to your friend Weasley that Creevey was really annoying you with all those pictures. That was right before Creevey got Petrified!

“Before you get any ideas” Ernie added hastily, “I should tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and wizards. My blood’s as pure as anyone’s, so —”

“I don’t care what sort of blood you’ve got!” Potter said fiercely. “Why would I want to attack Muggleborns? My Mum was one, for Merlin’s Sake!” 

“I’ve heard you hate those Muggles you live with,” said Ernie swiftly.

“It’s not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them,” said Potter. “I’d like to see you try it.” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library. Everyone collapsed back into their chairs, letting out a collective sigh of relief.

A second later, Hermione wandered out from the bookshelves, and took a look at the Hufflepuffs, “What did I just miss?”

“Potter was basically threatening Justin outright,” Ernie grimaced.

“It’s a good job he wasn’t here,” Susan said, “He’d have wet himself, if not worse.  _ I  _ almost did, and he wasn’t even talking to me!”

“I feel really bad for Justin,” Hannah mumbled, “He must be really scared. I know I am, and I’m not even a Muggleborn.”

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione chewed her lip. “Can someone walk me back to the Slytherin dorms? I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Sure,” Cedric volunteered. Hannah caught Hermione’s eye, and gave a little wink, causing the Slytherin to blush. 

“Thanks.”

As they walked out of the library, Cedric turned to Hermione. “I know that you’re a Pureblood and all, but with how Potter feels about you, you really shouldn’t go anywhere on your own.”

“You sound just like Draco, you know that?”

Cedric grinned easily and held up his hands, “We’re just looking out for you, that’s all.” He paused, before nudging her shoulder. “So tell me a little bit about yourself. Hannah’s told me quite a bit about the top witch in her class, but I want to hear it from you.”

Hermione felt herself blush all the way up to her roots of her hair, as Cedric chuckled. “Well, I like reading, I mean, as you can tell-” she gestured to her bag full of books. In one swift movement, Cedric rolled it off her shoulder and onto his. “Hey! I can carry it just fine!”

Cedric grinned, “I know, but I want to.” He gestured for her to continue. 

“I think my favourite class is Transfiguration, but I also really like Potions and Charms. My favourite Professor is Professor Snape, but if we’re counting outside of Slytherin, maybe Professor McGonagall? Oh, and I think I’d like Defense if we could get a good teacher for once. I mean, between Quirrell and Lockhart, we’ve not really had the cream of the crop there, so I don’t feel like I can accurately judge my feelings on the subject when I’ve had terrible teachers so far.”

“So you’re not in love with Lockhart then?” Cedric teased, drawing out the word love. “I thought all of the girls were.”

“I mean he’s handsome enough, I guess,” Hermione shrugged, “Not half as much as he brags to be, though. And besides, what good is a pretty face when there’s no brain in his head?”

“Ah, so you like someone of substance then,” said Cedric. “What is on the Hermione Greengrass list of traits for an ideal man?” he asked, teasingly.

Hermione burst into laughter. “Cedric!” 

When he nudged her pleadingly, she threw up her hands, “Fine! I’ll tell you! Well, he’d have to be smart. I’m not going to try and waste my time with somebody who’s absolutely stupid. I want someone kind and loyal, and then I guess someone who can make me laugh.”

“Short list there, Hermione,” Cedric said.

Hermione shrugged, “Not much else matters to me.” Her tone turned teasing. “What about you, Cedric?” 

Cedric ran his hand through his hair, “Ah, not much. Probably something similar to yours. A girl who’s smart and kind and has a good sense of humour.”

Hermione grinned, “And you made fun of me for having a short list! Well, now since we've got to be answering the same questions, what are your favourite classes?”

“I really like Defense,” said Cedric, “Even though I’ve only really had one good teacher-Professor Dawlish in my second year. I like Transfiguration loads, too. I like Professor Sprout, even though she isn’t my favourite professor, but that’s only really because I don’t care for Herbology. I’m also pretty good at Charms and Arithmancy.”

“Who was your other Defense Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Professor Dubont,” Cedric wrinkled his nose, “Who was completely and utterly useless. Bit of a git too-”

“ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!” The voice of Peeves echoed down the corridors. Hermione and Cedric looked at each other, before running towards the source of the noise. 

_ “Merlin!” _ Hermione gasped, when they reached the scene. Justin Finch-Fletchey, who had recommended Hermione a book on Bormey-Bells only a couple of hours earlier, was lying on the ground, petrified. The Gryffindor ghost was floating, frozen, and dark grey, instead of the normal bluish hue that he gave off. But the most horrifying part was Potter standing over the two, staring at them. A sob rose in Hermione’s throat. Justin was Petrified. Justin, who she sat across from her in Charms. Justin, who was supposed to be safe in the Hufflepuff dorms. Sure, she wasn’t  _ close  _ with him, but he was somebody she had known for the past two years, and had been pretty friendly with. It wasn’t just an ugly cat that everybody in the castle hated. It wasn’t some random Gryffindor first year she’d seen maybe twice. It was Justin. Someone she  _ knew.  _

Hermione stumbled backwards, and was caught by Cedric.

“He was supposed to be safe in the dorms,” she whispered.

“I know,” The older boy replied, tightening his arm around her shoulder to keep her steady as the corridor filled with more and more students.

Professor McGonagall came bursting into the hallway, and brandished her wand, causing a loud bang to go through the air. “If you’re in class, get back to it!” she shouted, her Scottish accent thicker than normal. “Mister Diggory, Miss Greengrass, you were the first on the scene after Mister Potter?” Cedric nodded. “Please stay here,” the woman said briskly, before starting to check Justin’s pulse.

As the scene cleared off, Ernie came through the crowds, his face falling as he saw Justin. “Justin!” Ernie shouted, before looking up to see Potter standing over the Hufflepuff’s body, his face darkened. “ _ You! _ Potter! Caught in the act! What did Justin ever do to you? Were you hunting for him in the library so you could attack him? Well?!”

“That will do, Mr. Macmillan!” said Professor McGonagall sharply. 

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene, with a large grin on his face, breaking into song as the teachers looked over Justin and the ghosts’ petrified forms. “Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun —”

Another sob rose from Hermione before she could choke it back down. 

“That’s  _ enough,  _ Peeves!” barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Potter. “Severus,” she said, turning to Professor Snape, who was looking on from the back, his face impassive. “Take Mister Potter to the Headmaster’s office, and I will ask Miss Greengrass and Mister Diggory what they saw.”

Hermione leaned heavily on Cedric as they walked towards McGonagall’s office, turning towards the Hufflepuff. “You must think I’m terribly dramatic,” her chuckle watery. “It’s just that I’ve known Justin for two years! I mean, not super well, but we’ve sat across from each other in Charms class! And we were  _ just  _ talking about our favourite books. It was only this morning And part of me can’t help but worry if it’s going to be  _ Hannah _ next, I mean, she’s not a Muggleborn, but she’s a Half-blood, and Potter doesn’t like her or me, but at least I’m a Pureblood, and I don’t know if the monster can attack Purebloods or not, like I don’t know if it knows and if was Hannah? I’ve known Hannah since I was five! She’s one of my best friends? And what if this time she didn’t just get petrified? What if she-if she-”

Cedric shushed her gently, “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re being dramatic,” he said quietly, “Quite frankly, I think I’m going to start crying too when everything catches up with me. I-just right now, I think I’m in shock.” He took a deep breath. “But I promise you, Hannah will be okay. I’ll keep the both of you safe. I promise.”

Professor McGonagall ushered them into her office, all three collapsing into their chairs as soon as they got there. 

“Now please,” McGonagall began, “Tell me what you know.”

“It started at the Dueling Club. Last night,” Hermione said, in a small voice. “The session for the first and second years. My friends and I wanted to go because well, none of us are Muggleborns, but we’re all still nervous about it all, you know? And if the Heir was really a blood fanatic, they might try to go after Hannah, since her Mum and Dad’s marriage broke up centuries of the Abbotts being all Purebloods, and she’s the first Half-blood Abbot. And if the Heir was a blood fanatic, they might view killing Hannah as a way to purify the line again.” Hermione shuddered, before pulling herself together. McGonagall didn’t need to hear all that. It was just speculation. “Anyway, when we went, Draco and Potter ended up dueling on the platform for a demonstration. When Draco conjured a snake for the duel, Professor Lockhart made it angry by throwing it in the air, and it started going after Justin Finch-Fletchey. And then Potter-he started hissing at it-speaking in Parseltongue, and it looked like-like-”

“Like?” Professor McGonagall gently prompted.

“Like he was  _ encouraging  _ it!” Hermione wiped at her eyes. “And it looked like it was just about to attack and Potter was still hissing at it, and then Professor Snape vanished it. There’s still some more, but Cedric knows about it more than I do.”

“Lady Magic above,” Professor McGonagall murmured under her breath. 

Cedric then took over the conversation. “In the library, I was sitting with Susan Bones,Ernie MacMillian and Caroline Purvis. We were talking about all sorts of things, and then Hermione and Hannah turned because Hermione wanted to find a book Justin had recommended to her. She went to find it and the discussion turned to the Chamber of Secrets, and how afraid Justin was of Potter! He’d just told Potter a bit ago that he was a Muggleborn and then Potter turns around and seemingly almost attacks him at the Dueling Club. And then, in the library, Potter came out of nowhere and wanted to know where Justin was. He said he wanted to talk to him about what ‘really’ happened at the Dueling Club.” He sucked in a breath.

“When Ernie told him off, he stormed away. Hermione wanted to go back to the Slytherin common room pretty soon after that,, so I said that I’d walk her back, and when we were halfway there, we heard Peeves shouting. We ran towards where his voice was coming from, and we saw Potter, alone, standing over Justin and Nearly-Headless-Nick.”

Professor McGonagall stayed silent for a while. When she spoke, her Scottish accent was thick. “I don’t normally take student gossip and hearsay into account. But-you two are model students, and-” She swallowed. “The evidence is only circumstantial, and I sincerely hope that Mr. Potter isn’t causing these attacks, but all the same, I’ll try and keep an extra eye on him, just in case. Merlin knows that trouble follows him-no, he follows trouble regardless. You two may go back to your common rooms now. Please, try and spread the word to walk in groups or at the very least pairs.”

As they walked through the hallways in dead silence, Cedric glanced over at Hermione, who was still leaning against him slightly, her cheek resting against his side, “You know, my favourite place in the whole world is Casiter-on-Sea. Me and my dad go there during the summers. We’ve gone every year since I was little. It’s just him and me, you know? My mum died of Dragon Pox when I was really little, I don’t really even remember her. But there’s this little cottage right near the beach in Caister, and it’s where my Mum and Dad met. They didn’t meet at Hogwarts, ‘cause my Mum went to Beauxbatons. My Dad says he took one look at Mum and fell in love right then and there. I like to hike up my shorts and wade in the water the moment that we Portkey there. Doesn’t matter that I’m not wearing swim clothes. I just like how the water feels, how the waves go in and out. But my favourite thing, I think, is watching the sun rise on the beach. It makes the sky turn all these colours you swear that you’d never seen before-the richest oranges, blues, purples. The lightest of yellows. And everything is absolutely quiet, other than the waves on the shore and the gulls scuttling in the sand. When I was little, I used to chase the gulls all over, trying to catch one of them. I only ever did once-and that was by feeding one of them a little cracker out of my hand. It was a little baby, so it didn’t know better yet, wasn't afraid of people yet. And then, once it ate the cracker, it scuttled back over to all the other gulls before they all flew off on a breeze.”

The way Cedric described it, Hermione could see the picture he painted, the sunlight on the waves and the grass waving in the dunes. By the end, she was able to walk by herself, her tears subsiding. “Thank you, Cedric,” she whispered.

He smiled at her softly. “Anytime, Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all like Cedic, because I think you can see where it's going...I _did _say that it was a slowburn (sorry, not sorry!) Also, if you're interested in a darker fic, I've posted the first five chapters of 'For His Juliet', although I must warn you it is _very _dark, and I would advise you to read the tags and disclaimer first before reading the fic.____
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> _Comments always make me so much more motivated, so if you enjoyed it, leave a comment!_  
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	21. Know You By Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, FalconHonour!

Had the Second-Year Slytherins not been so on edge, they would have found the extreme measure the school took to steer clear of Potter and Weasley hysterical. Even their own House wasn’t immune: one end of the Gryffindor table was always terribly overcrowded with the lions packed in as closely as they could, while Potter and Weasley sat in lonely splendour at the other end, a good ten to fifteen feet away. Classes with Gryffindor become a scramble to get the best seats possible-the ones furthest away from where Potter and Weasley sat. 

In fact, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, when Pansy found Sally-Anne Perks, Fay Dunbar and Lily Moon sitting at the Slytherin girls’ usual table, she leaned over the desk and glared at the Gryffindors. She growled, “So help me Merlin, if you do three do not move your Circe-damned asses out of _our_ seats, I will find a way to turn Potter’s shampoo into magical hair dye so that he’ll have bright pink hair for the next six months. And I will pin it on you.”

The three Gryffindors paled at the threat and scrambled over to where the Gryffindors normally sat, although it was _not_ at their usual table, which happened to be next to the one Potter sat at. When Finnigan and Thomas came into class last, their eyes bugged at the only other available table. Knowing they had no choice, they had swallowed before scooting their chair as far away from Potter and Weasley as possible and sitting down hastily. They flew from their seats the moment the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson.

Of course, there was a great surge to go home for Winter Break. That included those who had believed they would have to stay. Although the trip to Cyprus was _supposed_ to have been a couples’ retreat, immediately after Justin’s petrification, a letter had informed Hermione, Daphne, Draco, Theo, Blaise and Ginny that they were now coming too. Pansy and Hannah had been invited as well, but they had turned down the invitation so they could spend Yule with the Abbotts. Still, the group was very excited, Ginny especially so, as she had never been out of the country before. As Ginny packed for the break, she let her mind wander back to mid-November.

_Fred and George stood in the middle of the Slytherin common room, trying their absolute best to look unintimidated. Ginny sympathised with their plight, it certainly hadn’t been easy to stand in front of every Slytherin’s eyes the night she was Sorted, but luckily Professor Snape had been at her back, and she’d at least had the advantage that everyone in the room had seen her be Sorted into Slytherin, no matter how much they disliked it. Fred and George, however, didn’t have that luxury._

_However, what they did have that Ginny hadn’t was advice. She and Emmeline, who had started going steady with Fred within weeks of the school year starting, had coached the twins on how to act in front of everyone in Slytherin. How you couldn’t show weakness as an outsider. A weak outsider would have no chance at becoming an insider._

_Emmeline had agreed to help after her and Fred’s date in Hogsmeade had gone extraordinarily well. Not that she’d let on, of course. Not unless you counted the smile and light blush she had worn in the Slytherin common room after getting back from Hogsmeade. When pressed for details by Daphne, Emmeline had admitted that they’d agreed to go on another date when the following Hogsmeade weekend rolled around. Fred, though, was a different story. It was as if he’d won the lottery or something. He had grinned ear to ear for the week after, and had taken to carrying Emmeline’s bags to classes that they shared._

_The next day, Ginny and Emmeline had marched Fred and George to the library and sat them at one of the back tables._

_“We’re going to try and have you two voted into Honorary Slytherins,” Emmeline said._

_“What’s that?” asked Fred._

_“It means that you’ll be allowed into the common room. And that Professor Snape won’t hate you as much. Maybe.” Emmeline supplied._

_“And you get all these books and resources and stuff that only Slytherins get. But you have to be voted in. And once you’re in you have to keep your grades up.”_

_Fred and George groaned in tandem. “Do we have to?”_

_“Yes.” Ginny glared._

_And now, it seemed as if all the long hours had paid off. At the front of the room, like royalty, sat the most important members of the house of Slytherin: The fifth year Prefects, Lennox Pyrites and Fiona Vanity, Marcus Flint, as the Quidditch Co-Captain, the sixth year Prefects, Thomas and Carrine, the seventh year Prefects, Nicholas Sayre and Tiffany Dupont. At the head of it all was Professor Snape._

_“So,” Snape drawled, “Why on earth should we let the two of you into Slytherin?”_ _  
__George cleared his throat. “I get that you all don’t like Gryffindors usually.”_

_“And we’re Gryffindors,” said Fred._

_“But we’ve never had anything against you guys.”_

_“And we want to do this. For Ginny. And for Emmeline.”_

_“What about the pranks, huh? You can’t claim to have nothing against us after pulling pranks on us for the past three and a half years” Montague shouted._

_Fred raised his hands defensively “Hey, it’s not like we single any House out!”_

_“Yeah, we’re equal opportunist prankers.”_

_“Dear Merlin,” Snape rubbed his temples, “How would any of this benefit us?”_

_Fred and George looked at each other. “We can’t promise to stop pranking you guys.”_

_“Equal opportunists, like we said.”_

_“But, we can spare you from the worst ones,” Fred offered._

_“Like how you should avoid the orange juice tomorrow morning,” grinned George._

_Fred shrugged, “And if we don’t get in...well, who knows what food the polyjuice potion will end up in.”_

_“You were the ones who stole from my storage cabinet?” Snape looked murderous._

_“Wow,” Theo whispered under his breath. “How’d they get past all of his wards? It’s enchanted to the moon and back.”_

_“You two got past my wards?” Snape repeated, seeming a little less angry this time, a little more...impressed. “And you brewed polyjuice potion?”_

_George shrugged. “Yeah, I mean we’re not dumb or anything. Oh, and we tested it on ourselves first, if that’s what you’re worried about.”_

_“Besides, why would we try and pay attention in class? It’s all boring stuff anyways.”_

_Professor Snape looked like he was trying his best to keep it together. “You brewed Polyjuice Potion by yourselves. In Fourth Year. After getting past my wards. Is that what you’re saying?”_

_“Merlin no,” Fred shook his head violently. “We did the ward stuff in First Year. We needed to get the ingredients to make an Ageing Potion to put in Dumbledore’s goblet to see what would happen.”_

_“He just got more wrinkles,” George supplied. “But the first time we brewed Polyjuice was in our Second Year. That was the time we paid a couple of First Year Hufflepuffs to run around and cause chaos, Polyjuiced to look like us, while we also ran around and caused chaos.”_

_“Ah, that was a brilliant time,” laughed Fred._

_Professor Snape buried his face in his hands. He waved one of them in the air, his voice strained. “Go ahead. Vote.”_

_“All in favor of voting Fred and George Weasley in as Honorary Slytherins?” asked Tiffany Dupont._

_Slowly, and almost begrudgingly, about three quarters of the Slytherin’s raised their hands. Ginny looked around, her eyes wide and shining._

_“All against?” asked Nicholas Sayre. The remaining Slytherins raised their hands. “Alright then, it looks like Fred and George Weasley are now Honorary Slytherins. As Ginny Weasley and Emmeline Rosier were the ones to raise your case, they will be responsible for telling you everything that this entails and holding you responsible to the standards associated with being Honorary Slytherins.”_

_The twins broke out into large grins. “Wicked!” They high-fived each other and started to do some kind of a victory dance._

_“Stop, stop, stop,” Snape said, finally looking up. Fred and George froze, their faces falling. “You two will be meeting with me this Tuesday afternoon so we can discuss just how - and where - you two brewed Polyjuice Potion in your Second Year. And I will be providing additional out-of-the-classroom instruction for Potions. You two are obviously not challenged enough in it.” The twins exchanged a look. “That wasn’t a request.”_

Ginny laughed to herself at the memory as she folded a pair of socks, putting it into her trunk. She wasn’t sure who was more begrudgingly content with the arrangement, Fred and George, or Professor Snape. The twins refused to admit that they liked doing the extra work, but they _had_ \- reluctantly - admitted that not being limited by the Potions curriculum was pretty nice. And Professor Snape still glared at Fred and George as though he wanted to kill them half the time, but he had also begrudgingly complimented the twins on their innate knack for potioneering. Professor Snape also had taken it upon himself to provide more challenging material for the twins in other classes as well. 

The twins really were quite brilliant. They just didn’t see the point in putting work into something they deemed useless, like studying (why would one need to study if one instinctively understood the principles of everything one was being taught, after all) or writing essays. Ginny was glad to see other people finally recognising that the twins weren’t lazy or stupid, the only reason they didn’t care a whit about school was because they were bored out of their minds.

“Hey!” Hermione’s voice pulled Ginny out of her thoughts. “Come on, we want to get the best seats on the train!” 

Ginny laughed, and finished stuffing the last items in her trunk before dashing off to join her friends.

* * *

Hermione let her toes sink into the sand and giggled as Ginny looked at the ocean in awe.

“I’ve never seen the ocean before,” she softly admitted. 

Daphne came up from behind and hugged the redhead. “Well, now you have.”

They were interrupted from a whining from behind. “Is nobody going to do cartwheels with me?” Astoria whined. She focused on Ginny. “Ginny. Can you do a cartwheel?” Ginny nodded. Astoria rushed her, grabbing the girl by the hand and tugging her out towards the water. “We’re going to do them in the waves,” she announced.

Hermione looked at Daphne and cracked a smile. “They’re getting along well.”

“Were you expecting anything different?” 

Hermione noticed Ginny and Astoria running towards them, their smiles promising mischief. “We’ve created a monster, haven’t we?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s Yule Break. We’re going to have fun.”

Hermione let herself be pulled out to the edge of the tide by her sisters and Ginny, and started doing round offs in tandem with Daphne. Once the two finished, they turned to an awestruck Ginny and Astoria and gave overdramatic, sweeping bows. 

Loud classical music started drifting through the air, and the girls looked up at the beach house to see Selene setting up a wizarding radio. Daphne grinned mischievously. “Lady Greengrass,” she said, curtsying deeply, “May I have this dance?”

Hermione giggled, “Why of course, Lady Greengrass.” Hermione took her sister’s outstretched hand and the two started waltzing, as the waves lapped at their knees. 

Once the dance ended, they were greeted by applause and wolf whistles. Looking up, flushed, Hermione saw Draco, Blaise, and Theo standing at the edge of the sand, with their trousers rolled up. 

“Took you guys long enough to get here,” Ginny laughed, “What were you all doing anyway?” 

Draco said, “Mother and Father said that we could all go to the town center, as long as we all stick together.”

“Wicked!” Ginny grinned.

“I think I’m going to stay here,” Astoria decided, “I want to explore the house.”

“Anyone else want to stay back?” Hermione asked. When nobody answered she grinned. “Okay, come on! Boys, do you know how far away it is?”

“It’s a five minute walk,” Theo answered. “We’re supposed to be back by before seven tonight, so that gives us two and a half hours. Aunt Cissa gave us some money to grab dinner for ourselves.”

The group of Slytherins found themselves in the centre of Póli Mágou in no time at all. The town square was lively and bright, full of white houses and businesses whose windows were adorned with sea glass. The streets were cobbled and vendors lined the way with carts and pop-up shops. The carts advertised traditional greek food, bottles of wine and various oils, artisanal soaps, olives, and jewelry made of seashells, beads, and seaglass. The shopfronts were much more diverse, with restaurants, boutiques, antique shops, bakeries, bookshops, and apothecaries represented liberally. There was a wand shop that, if the signs were anything to go by, was run by the Baros family. A sweet shop, that seemed to be the regional version of Honeydukes, had windows full of displays of candies in all colors of the rainbow. There was the Cypriot branch of Zonkos, a broom shop, and even a small shop where you could buy Tarot cards and Crystal Balls, and have your fortune told.

The kids looked at each other, smiles on their faces.

“So…” Blaise trailed off, “We meet back here in an hour and a half?” 

“Sounds good,” Hermione grinned. The group scattered, like the bursting of a firework, each running off to different shops, their eyes wide. 

Draco, of course, ran off to the Quidditch shop, having been ogling the broomsticks in the windows ever since he’d laid eyes on them. Broomsticks were fundamentally the same around the globe, but they had different tweaks and quirks in different places. For example, in the United States and Canada, the ends of the brooms were composed of more straw than what was typically seen,which made them much faster, but made steering a little bit harder. In Eastern Asia, different woods were used, like bamboo and koa, which enabled a Quidditch player to ride upside-down, should they choose to do so. In Australia and New Zealand, the brooms were dead straight all the way through the wooden part, without any twists or bends, making it a little harder to stay on. 

The brooms of Cyprus were no different. Their oddity, which was prevalent throughout the Middle East, the end of the brooms fanned out in a semi-circle shape, which allowed for greater control while steering. As Draco looked at the broomsticks in awe, a shop associate came up behind him.

“See something you like?”

“Oh, I’m just a big Quidditch fan. I’m visiting from England, so I’m just looking at the differences between your broomsticks and ours,” replied Draco.

“Oh, then I’ve got a book for you!” the shopkeeper grinned. “Lots of pictures and lots of words, but you look like a smart boy, so I’m sure you can handle that.” He led Draco up to a stand of books, titled _‘Quidditch and Broomsticks: A Comprehensive Worldwide Guide’_. “Are you on a Quidditch team at your school or anything?”

Draco swelled with pride. “I am. I’m the Seeker for Slytherin-I go to Hogwarts.”

“You’ve got the build for a Seeker,” the shopkeeper commented. “You know, my wife is English. She went to Hogwarts as well-she was a Ravenclaw. Wasn’t on the Quidditch Team though, she didn’t care for the heights. She did go to every game though.”

“What team does she support now?”

“Wimbourne Wasps. She grew up in the area, and we met at the Club World Cup back in ‘81. The Cyprus Centaurs were playing the Wasps, and we made a bet. If the Centaurs won, she’d go on a date with me, and if the Wasps won, I’d have to buy myself a bunch of Wasp merch and wear it for the week. The Wasps won, but she agreed to go on a date with me anyway” He chuckled, “Although I did end up having to go on the date fully decked out in yellow and navy.”

“How long have you guys been married?” 

“Since ‘84. Quidditch helps you pick up chicks, in one way or another, although you shouldn’t start thinking about that for another couple of years.”

Draco sighed, “Too late.”

“Does she like you back?”

“Nope.”

“Well, we can change that. Is she into Quidditch?”

“Not really, but she’s my best friend, so she goes to my matches anyway.”

“Ah,” the shopkeeper smiled knowingly, “She’s already your friend, eh? That’s more than half of the battle right there. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and it’ll pay off, eventually.”

“Yeah,” Draco mumbled, “But I think she likes somebody else. He’s a Seeker and he’s two years older than me. Just about everybody in the school likes him.”

The shopkeeper scrunched his brows in thought, “Wait for her then. If they start going out, wait it out. These things tend to all work out when everything is said and done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. And don’t go and start trying to listen to other boys’ advice. You lot are all just as clueless as each other. Don’t go dating other girls to try and make her jealous, because that’ll end up hurting everyone involved in the end.”

Draco made a face. “Why would I want to date any other girl when she’s right there?”

The shopkeeper laughed. “That’s the spirit, boy. Keep a good head on your shoulders and be patient, and it’ll pay off.”

\---

Hermione watched her friends scatter throughout the town square, laughing a bit to herself. It wasn’t a big surprise as to where everyone was going. Draco was headed towards the Quidditch Shop, and Daphne was going to one of the clothing boutiques. Theo had made a beeline for the quill and parchment shop, while Blaise had gone to the shop where the seer was set up. Ginny seemed torn between going to the Quidditch shop with Draco and the sweet shop, and ended up deciding on the latter. Hermione, unsurprisingly, headed for the bookshop, though she did shout after Ginny to buy her a bumper pack of Sugar Quills. Astoria would never forgive them if they didn’t bring her _something_ back.

The bell above the door tolled as she entered, and Hermione breathed in the scent of the bookshop: the old parchment, the dried ink, the slight tang of salt from the open window that looked upon the sea. Walking down the aisles of books, she ran her fingers down the spines, feeling the leather and the fabrics that made up the covers. She was so caught up in looking at the books, she walked straight into somebody. Stumbling backwards, she flushed and blurted out an apology, before looking up to see who she had inadvertently run into. 

“Hermione?” 

Her face broke into a smile as she saw Cedric Diggory standing in the aisle. She had been spending more and more time with Cedric since Justin had been Petrified and found herself really liking the Hufflepuff boy. Maybe even liking him a little _too_ much. “Cedric! I didn’t know you were here for break!”

Cedric grinned, and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you would be here either. Who are you here with?”

Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m here with my sisters, Daphne and Astoria, but you’ve never met Astoria before, she’s going to be a first year student next year. My parents are here too, and so are the Malfoys, and Sirius Black. Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott tagged along as well. It was all sort of like a last minute thing that we were even coming here.”

“Oh, same here,” Cedric admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to go home for break, since my dad’s on a business trip in America, but he didn’t want me staying in Hogwarts with everything going on, so he arranged for me to come along with my second cousins on my Mum’s side. I mean, I’m not complaining, since I don’t get to see them nearly enough, with them living in France, and it’s absolutely gorgeous here. How long are you guys here for?”

“All of break,” Hermione answered, “We’re portkeying back to England on the second of January. What about you guys?”

“Well, my cousins are staying here until mid-way through January, because the Beauxbatons break is much longer than ours. I was going to catch a portkey back on the 27th of December, but they’ve all been trying to get me to stay longer.”

“So will you?” Hermione asked shyly.

“Well, now that I know that you’re here,” Cedric winked, “Why would I go back to England any earlier than necessary?”  
“Will you need any help in changing your portkey?”

Cedric waved her off, “No, thank you though. My cousins’ parents, my Aunt Apolline and Uncle Auguste, are the French Ambassadors to England, so they can get a portkey to England from wherever they are just about any time they want.”

“Oh, the Delacours!” Hermione said, “Dad and Uncle Lucius are acquaintances with them through foreign trade and all that. I’d love to meet them all and spend some time with you guys while we’re here, if that works for you?”

Cedric grinned, “That’d be great. Are you all free tomorrow night? We can meet up somewhere on the beach at six and spend the night. I can owl you the details?”

“That sounds great.”

* * *

After much negotiation and wheedling upon the kids’ parts, the adults had relented to a beachside sleepover. Of course, it had become much easier to convince them once it was revealed that it was with the Delacours and Cedric Diggory, names that their parents were already familiar with.

As dusk fell upon the island, the group of Slytherins made their way down the beach, heading towards the agreed area to meet up. After a few minutes of walking, they saw a group of people jumping and waving them over. 

With Cedric was an indescribably beautiful girl, with platinum hair and silver eyes, who seemed to be about Cedric’s age. Next to her were two boys and a girl, each with dark hair and light eyes, who looked similar enough that Hermione guessed them to be siblings. Another girl with dark skin and hair the colour of chocolate was grinning at the approaching group, next to a boy with slightly lighter skin and darker hair. 

“Hermione!” Cedric called. 

“Hey Cedric!” Hermione greeted. 

“Hermione!” the blonde girl beamed, her voice had a light French accent, “We have heard so much about you from Cedric!” Whether it was the light of the sunset or not, it seemed as if Cedric’s cheeks went a bit red. The girl laughed, “Where are my manners? _Bonjour_ , my name is Fleur Delacour. Cedric is my second cousin. These are my friends and my other cousins. We all go to Beauxbatons Academy.” 

One of the boys with dark hair stepped forward with a smile. He looked to be the oldest of the three with dark hair. His French accent was much thicker than Fleur’s. “I am Christophe Delacour, Fleur is my cousin through her father’s side, so Cedric and I are not technically related, other than through marriage.”

“I am Christophe’s brother,” said the other dark haired boy, “Laurent Delacour, and Marguerite,” he gestured to the dark-haired girl, “Is my twin sister.”

“Hi, I’m Marguerite,” Marguerite introduced herself.

Then the dark skinned girl next to her gave the group of Slytherins a smile. Unlike the others, her voice had a Dutch accent, although there were hints of French in it. “My name is Sara Visser. I’m not related to Fleur, although she is like a sister to me,” she joked.

The last boy introduced himself as, “Rafael Martins,” his voice had a light Portugese accent. “I’m not related to anyone here, but when Cristophe invited me to Crete over break, I thought I would come.” He grinned. “I suppose it’s now your turn.”

After the Slytherins introduced themselves, Fleur clapped her hands, smiling. “Wonderful! I have much planned for tonight, so let’s get started! She waved her wand, and a blanket appeared on the ground. The Slytherins gaped. 

“What?” Marguerite asked, confused, “It is just magic.”

“Do you guys not have traces on your wands?” Hermione asked. “Like, we can do magic in our homes, because the ministry can’t tell who it’s coming from, but we’re not able to do it out in the open like that.”

“Oh!” a look of realization crossed Fleur’s face. “We do not have Traces on our wands in continental Europe, unless you are a criminal. Even then, it’s just to monitor the kinds of spells that you use.”

“Wicked,” Draco breathed.

“I suppose that the government trusts us to not do magic in front of _Non-Magiques_?” Laurent offered, “I believe that Cedric said that you call them Muggles.”

Cedric nodded, grinning at the Slytherins, “Yeah. Don’t worry, I totally freaked when Fleur turned my hair bright yellow in the park when we were eleven. There were Muggles there, but we were up in a tree so nobody could see us.”

“Enough talking,” Rafael laughed, “It’s time to play Spin-The-Bottle!” 

Hermione felt herself going red, but Daphne shrieked in delight and pulled her twin over to the blanket. Fleur sat elegantly, her legs crossed. “Before we start, I shall explain the rules of the game so that we are all on the same page. We will each get a chance to spin the bottle one time. Whoever it lands upon, you _must_ kiss on the lips, unless if you are blood-related to them, in which case, you shall give them a kiss on the cheek. The kiss on the mouth can be however chaste you want it to be, or it can be very _french,_ ” she winked. “Any questions?”

Draco went red, “What if it lands on someone the same gender as you? Like if I spun it and it landed on Theo. Would I have to kiss him? Like on the mouth?”

The Beauxbatons students burst into laughter. 

“I forget how _rigid_ the English can be!” said Laurent.

Fleur shot a look at Laurent, before giving a kind smile to Draco. “If you are uncomfortable kissing someone of the same gender as you on the lips, you can kiss them on the cheek instead. Anything else?”

“Daphne and I are soulmates, like we’re soul bonded and all that,” Theo blushed. “What are we supposed to do?” 

“I believe that’s up to the two of you,” Marguerite shrugged.

Theo looked at Daphne. “I’m okay, as long as we keep the kisses quick and simple.”

Daphne nodded in agreement, “Sounds good. But if it lands on you, _I_ can do whatever I want,” she grinned mischievously and Theo blushed. 

Fleur looked around to see if anyone else had questions, before setting the bottle down. “I shall start, and then the bottle will pass to my left.”

Laurent, who was sitting on Fleur’s right, gasped and mock glared at her. “Cousin!”

“Why do you think I chose the left?” Fleur said coquettishly. She looked back up at the circle of teenagers. “Before we start, I should warn you that I am a quarter Veela, as is Marguerite. However, neither of us are seventeen yet, so our Veela side has not activated yet, so that shouldn’t affect the game at all.” She took the bottle by the neck, and spun it quickly. The bottle landed on Rafael, who laughed and clapped his hands. Fleur grabbed the Portugese boy by the face, and drew him in for a long, deep kiss. The Beauxbatons students started wolf-whistling, while the Hogwarts students looked around a bit shocked. Blaise shrugged, and joined in with the cheering.

When Fleur drew back, she returned to her spot in the circle, and passed the bottle off to her left, to Cristophe. When Cristophe spun the bottle, it landed on Cedric. Cristophe smirked at Cedric. “I’ll keep it quick, Tommyboy.” He drew in Cedric for a quick kiss. Hermione’s head suddenly spun-the idea that she might _kiss_ Cedric tonight had completely escaped her notice. 

After that, the bottle went to Marguerite, who ended up french-kissing Sara, before passing the bottle off to Blaise. Blaise spun the bottle, and it landed on Ginny. The two went a little red in the face, as the circle cheered the two on in encouragement, before Blaise crossed the circle, and kissed Ginny. It started a bit tentative on both parts, but Hermione could tell that it had become much more certain after a few moments. It was Blaise who drew back, uncharacteristically blushing, passing the bottle off to Draco. 

Draco looked at the bottle a bit nervously, before spinning it. When it landed on Hermione, the two both turned the colour of a tomato, and the Slytherins started whooping and hollering. Draco seemed to gather his courage, and approached Hermione. Something settled in Hermione’s stomach as she bit the inside of her cheek as Draco was right in front of her. Hermione felt his warm lips land on hers, and opened her mouth a bit slightly. Her stomach turned to butterflies, and after a moment that might’ve been a few seconds or a minute, Draco drew back bright red, passing the bottle off to Daphne, who ended up passionately drawing Theo into a deep kiss. She drew back, a satisfied smile on her face, and gave the bottle to Hermione. 

Her heart pounding in her chest, Hermione spun the bottle by the neck, and felt herself go red when it landed on Blaise. Her stomach in knots, she approached him, her stomach a bit tight. Okay. Whatever. Who cared! It was just like kissing any of her other friends! It was just that _she_ was the one doing the kissing. She closed her eyes and kissed Blaise, her mouth slightly parted. After Blaise reciprocated the kiss for a moment or two, the two drew back and started laughing. There was no spark whatsoever. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Fleur asked.

“It was like kissing a sister,” Blaise explained, “I mean, if I had a sister. No sparks there.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, as she passed the bottle off to Theo, who wound up kissing Sara on the cheek, and passed it off to Ginny. When Ginny landed on Marguerite, everyone expected another peck on the cheek, but Ginny grinned wickedly. “You’re all cowards,” she declared, before kissing the French girl full on the mouth. Ginny passed the bottle off to Cedric, who took a deep breath when he spun the bottle. It landed on Hermione, and the circle erupted into hollering, especially from the Beauxbatons students. As Cedric crossed the circle, Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. When Cedric was a foot away from her, he whispered, “Is this okay?”

Not trusting her voice, Hermione nodded slightly. Encouraged, Cedric put one hand on the small of her back, and leaned in. His lips were warm and smooth against hers, and when Hermione let out a small gasp, he swept the entrance of her mouth with his tongue, testing the waters. Her stomach fluttered and Hermione opened her mouth further, allowing him access, and let Cedric take the lead. She draped her wrists around the edge of his shoulders and leaned into his body, as a small sound came from the back of Cedric’s throat. After a moment or two, he pulled back, looking somehow both proud and sheepish at the same time. Hermione smiled brilliantly at him, her cheeks pink, as he returned to his spot in the circle. 

And as Sara kissed Laurent, Rafael kissed Daphne on the cheek, and Laurent ended the game by making out with Rafael, Hermione found herself glancing at Cedric. Whenever she looked at him, she found that he had already been staring at her, and her face would redden, and she would quickly turn away, before repeating the whole process over again.

When Fleur declared the game over, Hermione found herself sitting out on the edge of the tide, watching the moon. As someone sat down next to her, she turned her head to find Cedric. 

“That didn’t have to change or mean anything. Not if you didn’t want it to or anything like that,” Cedric said.

Not able to look at him, Hermione continued staring out at the ocean. “What if I want it to mean something?” 

“I’d like that,” Cedric admitted softly. “Do you want it to change anything?”

“Not-not yet,” Hermione blushed. “I’d like to get to know you a little better. Before doing anything more with you or doing that again. But from what I know so far, I like you a lot, Cedric.”

“Good,” Cedric grinned, “Because I like you a lot, too, Hermione.” 

Gathering her courage, Hermione turned to look at Cedric. His eyes shined in the moonlight, and it made her heart skip a beat. “I think I like you too much to want to do something without any real meaning.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t think I’m ready for that, not yet at least,” Hermione admitted, “But I’ve got an idea of when. You don’t need to wait up for me or feel obligated to do that or anything though.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Hermione. When do you want me to ask you again?” Cedric asked, his face open and vulnerable.

Looking at him through her lashes, Hermione said, “Ask me again when I start third year, and I think I’ll have an answer for you, Cedric Diggory.” She offered him a smile. “Happy Yule, Cedric.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Draco, I know. But he'll get there, eventually. I promise!!


	22. I Don't Know About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the chapter of the title is...well, I couldn't help it. I won't be able to post next week, so I've got three new chapters for you! Of course, there's this, and then we have a beta'd chapter 4 and 5! As always, thanks to my amazing beta FalconHonour! Hope you all enjoy it!

Hermione was cautiously optimistic as they returned to school after Yule. She was thrilled to be back at school, to see Hannah and Pansy and Neville - her parents always insisted that Yule be just the five of them, unless they had family over - but the Monster of Slytherin and Justin’s frozen form were still fresh in her mind. She couldn’t have forgotten even if she wanted to, not with Peeves’s habit of singing about it in the corridors. He even had a dance routine to go with it. Hermione flinched every time she heard Peeves singing, the memories flooding back. Thankfully, that only lasted a couple of weeks before Draco talked to the Bloody Baron, and got him to threaten Peeves into silence. When Hermione asked why he had done it, Draco looked at her earnestly and said that it wasn’t fair to her that she had to relive that memory whenever Peeves showed up. 

Ernie MacMillian had gone on a bit of a crusade against Potter. And honestly, given the guy had been standing over Justin’s body, Hermione couldn’t blame him. Heck, Draco would probably have done the same, if he wasn’t so firmly determined on keeping their group as far out of Potter’s conscience as possible. 

But, as January dragged by and turned into February without any new attacks happening, everyone started to relax, just a little bit. Maybe Potter, or whoever the Heir was, had decided to close the chamber. Slowly, life seemed to return to normal. Slytherin thrashed Hufflepuff at Quidditch as Draco raced Cedric to the snitch and won, giving Slytherin a 290-170 victory.    
Come the Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw game, Hermione trotted out to the stands with her friends, instead of opting out like she normally did. They all sat out in the Hufflepuff stands with Hannah, and Hermione even wore yellow and black to show her support for the Badgers.. The grin that split Cedric’s face from ear to ear when he flew out with the team and spotted her in the crowd made it all worth it. 

Walking into the Great Hall on the morning of Valentine’s day was like walking into an explosion of pink. Wreaths of flowers, arranged in heart shapes, were liberally slung across the walls, and little red floating hearts hovered in the air, spelling out cheesy messages. From the ceiling came pieces of confetti, steadily falling in waves of purples, reds, and pinks. 

“This,” Daphne gasped “Is the _ tackiest _ thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, so if it was a bit more tasteful, you’d like it then?” Pansy snarked.

“Just because  _ some  _ of us aren’t in a relationship-”

Hermione cut her sister off gently, “Let’s go back to talking about how tacky this all is.”

As they sat down to eat their breakfasts, the confetti became a problem, especially for Theo, who had to pick bits of confetti out of the syrup on his pancakes. When the twins came in, George sat next to Ginny, and Fred sat next to Emmeline, who was working on putting the finishing touches on a card. She presented it to Fred a little after he sat down, and blushed a deep shade of pink when he kissed her in response. 

“I’ve got something for you, but it’s not until later,” Fred promised. 

About halfway through breakfast, silence fell over the Great Hall. Caught off-guard, Hermione looked up to see Lockhart, in robes the shade of cerise, waving his hands around at the teacher’s table. Most of the professors were stone-faced, or similarly displeased. Professor McGonagall’s eye was twitching, Professor Flitwick was desperately trying to hide his utter disdain at the display, Professor Sprout, who almost always wore a smile on her face, was frowning, and Professor Snape looked like he was in physical pain. Dumbledore, though, had a twinkle in his eye, as always.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

As Lockhart clapped his hand, about a dozen sullen looking dwarves marched into the Great Hall, carrying harps and wearing nothing but golden wings and diapers. It was more skin than Hermione had  _ ever  _ wanted to see on a dwarf. Ever. 

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!” 

Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick suddenly glared at Lockhart, before they looked at each other, and then at Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. The four heads leaned into one another and started a hushed conversation. 

“That’s all!” Lockhart grinned. “Happy Valentine's Day!”

“Is he mad?” Theo asked, “Who would bring-why-just-” Theo let out an exasperated sigh.

Fred and George Weasley each had a gleam in their eyes. “Cut that out, right now,” Emmeline barked, “Frederick Gideon Weasley, if you send me a single Valentine from one of those dwarves, you will find yourself very suddenly single.”

Fred raised his hands, “I’m not going to send it to you! What I’m interested in is how it can be used as a public messaging system.”

“I don’t think the dwarves will care about whatever the singing valentine  _ says, _ ” George chimed in, “Which leaves us a lot of room for what we can do with it.”

“For example,” said Fred, “We’ve got one of Lockhart’s tests today in DADA. We can’t  _ have  _ a test if there’s an endless stream of singing dwarves the whole class period.”

Emmeline pursed her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “Well, I suppose that is a worthy cause. As long as the Valentines don’t work up Lockhart’s ego, I’ll pay for however many Valentines it will take to last a whole period, if the two of you write the poems.”

Half an hour later, as the second year Slytherins were making their way over to Herbology when the flow of the hallway stopped abruptly. 

“What’s going on?” Theo asked. 

“I’ll go figure it out,” Draco said, before ducking through the crowd and making his way up to the front. Without thinking, Hermione followed him up to the clearing, where Potter was standing in front of one of the dwarves, his bag split wide open and the contents spilt all over the floor. Weasley was watching on from Potter’s side, looking horrified. “What’s going on here?” Draco asked, coldly. “You’re holding up half of the school, Potter.”

Potter started stuffing all of his items into his split bag as quickly as he could, he cheeks as red as Weasley’s hair. 

Percy Weasley made his way through the crowd and up to the small blocked area that Potter was taking up. “What’s all this commotion?” 

Potter went even redder which was quite a feat, in Hermione’s opinion, and began to dash off. Before he could get anywhere though a dwarf tackled the Gryffindor, his small grubby arms locking around Potter’s waist. Despite the fact that the dwarf couldn’t have been more than a third of Potter’s height, he came down with a large crash, and the dwarf sat on top of his ankle. 

“Right,” the dwarf said, his cockney accent thick, “Here’s your singing Valentine:-” he cleared his throat, before starting to sing, his voice sounding like a dying goat. “ _ His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”  _

The corridor was absolutely still, absolutely quiet. 

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, to try and stifle her reaction, but a giggle flew out, and the spell was broken. The whole corridor burst out into raucous laughter. Potter tried to laugh along, but it was hard for him to seem unfazed when his face was the colour of a tomato. 

Percy Weasley started shooing students away, “Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now. And you, Malfoy —” 

Hermione looked back to Draco to see him examining a small black book, waving through the pages with open curiosity written all over his face. He looked back up, and his face hardened as he noticed Percy Weasley was talking to him. “Wonder what Potter’s written in this?”

A hush fell over the remaining onlookers, and a multitude of things happened all at once. Potter lunged at Draco, reaching for the book. Draco turned away so that the book was out of Potter’s reach. And Percy Weasley went very pale, before a strange green tint spread across his face. 

“Hand it over, Malfoy,” said Percy Weasley, his voice stern, but shaking. “Hand it over.”

“It’s not yours-” Draco said, before he was interrupted by Percy Weasley.

“As a school Prefect-,” his voice much higher than it normally was, “I-”

But Hermione would never know what Percy Weasley was about to say, because Potter drew his wand at Draco, and shouted “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” The black book flew from Draco’s hands into the air, and Ron Weasley deftly caught it, and handed it off to Potter. 

“Harry!” said Percy Weasley loudly. “Give it to me!” 

“It’s mine!” Potter shouted. 

“Come on, guys,” said Daphne, who had finally caught up. “We’re going to be late for class.”

As the Slytherins rushed off, Hermione bit her lip. “Why would Percy Weasley confront Potter over something like that? I mean he might be the-” she cut herself off, “Draco, why were  _ you  _ antagonizing Potter?”

Draco’s gaze was far away, but he shook his head when Hermione said his name. “I’ve seen that book in my father’s study. I’m absolutely sure of it.”

“Then how did Potter get hold of it?” Theo asked.

“I’ve got no idea,” Draco replied.

“Well he couldn’t have broken in and stolen it,” Blaise said, trying to laugh off the unease that had settled over them. 

“No, but it could’ve been in the pile that we sold to Borgin and Burkes over the summer,” Draco thought aloud.

Pansy snorted. “Potter? In Borgin and Burkes? There’s no way in hell-”

“Language!” Hermione cut in.

“That _ Saint _ Potter would ever go into Borgin and Burkes, whether he’s the Heir or not,” Pansy finished.

“Are you sure it’s the same book, Draco?” Theo asked, “I mean, from what I saw it looked like any generic black book.”

“No,” Draco shook his head, “I’ve seen it in my father’s study before. I looked through it, and it felt...dark. I mean, not like normal dark, but like  _ bad  _ dark. And I don’t pick up on magical signatures like that, not easily. So it must have positively reeked of dark magic if I noticed it. I’m telling you, it’s the same book.”

“Write to Uncle Lucius about it then,” Hermione suggested, “Maybe he’ll know more about it.”

“What I want to know,” Blaise said, “Is why Percy Weasley was being so weird about it? I mean, his face turned  _ green. _ Does he have something to hide?”

The group went about the rest of their day with a sense of unease permeating their moods. 

Determined to lighten up, Hermione went to the library. When she arrived, she noticed Cedric sitting alone at a table, waving her over. A smile burst across her face, and Hermione walked over to Cedric as quickly as she could without getting yelled at by Madam Pince for running in the library. 

“Hey!” he smiled in greeting, “What are you doing in here?” 

Hermione shrugged, “I’ve been having a bit of an off day, so I wanted to go somewhere I knew I’d feel comfortable.”

“And then you saw me.”

“And then I saw you,” Hermione said, taking a seat. She peered over to the essay Cedric was working on. “What’s that for?”

“Transfiguration,” Cedric replied, “It’s an essay that’s due by the end of the week.”

“Oh,” Hermione went red, “I can leave so you can focus-”

“No,” Cedric cut her off, and gave her a brilliant smile. “I waved you over here, didn’t I? Besides, I’m almost done.”

“What’s the essay on?”

Cedric smiled mischievously. “What if I showed you?” He pulled out his wand from his holster that was hidden inside his sleeve. 

“Constantly in your holster, huh?” Hermione nudged him.

“I like to be prepared,” Cedric shrugged. He gave his wand a wave, saying “ _ Orchideous!” _ From the tip of his wand burst a bouquet of Tarragon flowers, and he handed them over, with a flourish. Hermione went pink. In the language of flowers, tarragons meant ‘lasting interest’. Was Cedric saying that his affection for her would last until she was ready? Or was she just overthinking everything? She didn’t know if Cedric knew the meaning behind certain flowers. 

“Do you know what tarragons mean?” Hermione asked, a bit shyly.

“Of course,” Cedric smiled softly, “They mean lasting interest. Like how blue Salvias -  _ orchideous _ ,” he said, giving her the blue salvias he conjured a moment later, “Mean I think of you, and how white roses -  _ orchideous - _ mean that I am worthy of your affections, and how heliotropes -  _ orchideous  _ \- mean devotion.” 

Hermione blushed as Cedric handed her the flowers one after another, “You don’t have to do all this for me, Cedric.”

“Of course I do,” Cedric grinned easily. “You deserve flowers on Valentine’s Day. Every day, really. So you - last one I promise -  _ orchideous  _ \- forget-me-not.”

Hermione was absolutely certain that her face was the colour of Lockhart’s robes, but she couldn’t have cared less if she turned blue, as long as Cedric kept looking at her the way that he was at that moment. “So,” she said, attempting to return her face to its natural colour, “I take it you’ve been learning how to conjure flowers?”

Cedric laughed, “How could you tell?”

“Just a feeling,” Hermione smiled. “So what exactly is the essay about? The theory behind it?”

“No,” Cedric said, shaking his head, “Apparently Professor McGonagall is a romantic at heart. We’re supposed to write about practical uses for the spell, and the meanings of the flowers that we conjure.” 

“Professor Sprout had us learning how to splice different plants together, and had us practising using roses and tulips. I guess some of the Professors  _ do  _ like to do special things for Valentine’s Day, which is kind of nice, actually. Just not in Lockhart’s way.”

Cedric grimaced, “I think I’ve seen more dwarf skin today than I’ve ever needed to see in my entire life. Did he really have to have them going around wearing nothing but a diaper and wings?”

“At least you didn’t have to see one tackle Harry Potter in the hallways, and then sing about how his eyes were the colour of a ‘fresh pickled toad’.”

Cedric chuckled, “We really have some poets here at Hogwarts, don’t we? Real John Keats in the making.”

“You know Keats?”  
Cedric ducked his head, “I like poetry. Really Hufflepuff, I know but-”

“I  _ love  _ Keats.” 

Cedric looked up, a small smile working its way onto his face. “But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet.”

“Tread softly,” Hermione finished, “Because you tread on my dreams...Merlin, I’m so glad you like poetry. All of my friends absolutely hate it, but I think it’s the most beautiful thing. How people preserve their love, everything they’ve ever felt, long past their deaths They trap a moment into words and it’s like you can  _ see _ it-” she blushed, “I’m rambling.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Cedric said reassuringly, “I don’t mind.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments. “So, Mister Seeker,” Hermione said, nudging Cedric’s shoulder, “You did really well against Ravenclaw last week. 320 to 90 is pretty impressive.”

Cedric grinned appreciatively. “Yeah. Didn’t win against Slytherin, though.”

“We’ve got a pretty good team,” Hermione said, her eyes sparkling.

“I couldn’t get you to cheer against your own house, then? Not even for me?” 

Hermione laughed, “You make a tempting offer, but I’m loyal to my house. Besides, my cousin and one of my best friends are on the team. I couldn’t root against them.”

“Worth a try,” Cedric shrugged, smirking “Although, is there any chance I could get you to root for Hufflepuff against Gryffindor? The match isn’t until May, but well…” Cedric ducked his head, before grinning at Hermione, “I was hoping maybe you could wear one of my jerseys to the match. I know that we aren’t like official and you want to take it slow, so there’s no pressure but-”

“Sure,” Hermione said, smiling shyly. 


	23. At Least You Have Beautiful Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, FalconHonour

Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy, Hyperion Greengrass and Severus Snape stood in the middle of the woods outside Little Hangleton, looking at the dilapidated shack that apparently served as the Gaunt ancestral home.

The walls were shaky at best, and a snake was nailed to the door, its carcass magically preserved. The forest was deathly silent, with not even the rustle of leaves or the scuttle of an animal to be heard. It was as if no living thing dared to alert the Gaunt Shack of its presence for fear of suffering the same fate as the snake. 

“So,” Sirius said, rocking back and forth on his heels, “Are we just going to stand here like a bunch of wusses, or are we actually going to go inside?” 

Severus rubbed his temples, “Merlin, Black, could you  _ try  _ to be even an iota less Gryffindor?”

Sirius shrugged, “Wouldn’t be half as fun.” With that, he went up to the door and kicked it open. Instead of swinging open, the door fell to the floor with a thud and Sirius looked back, apologetically. “Sorry.” As the other three men joined him inside the house, Sirius asked, “What exactly  _ are  _ we looking for?”

“Any proof or evidence that the Dark Lord was a Gaunt,” Lucius said, “He claimed to be descended from Salazar Slytherin directly, although I have yet to uncover any proof to back up his claim. I read over some of my father’s old letters to and from his schoolmates, because he’s always told me that he and the Dark Lord went to Hogwarts together and were close friends in their schooldays. The only name I didn’t recognize was a man by the name of Tom Riddle.”

“So was this Riddle fellow...,” Hyperion hesitated, “Was he the Dark Lord?”  
“That seems to be the only option of who it could’ve been,” said Lucius. 

“Riddle isn’t exactly a Wizarding name, though, is it?” Sirius asked, “I mean, Walburga made me memorise every single Pureblood’s family tree back to the days of the Founders. I admit I was hardly a good student, but I don’t remember there being a Riddle.”

“Severus, do you know anything about this?” Hyperion asked.

Severus’s face was stony. “I know the identity of the Dark Lord, but I’m under oath not to share it with you all. As such, I can neither confirm nor deny that Riddle was the Dark Lord’s original name.”

“What are we doing at the Gaunt House, then?” Sirius threw his hands in the air. “I mean, this certainly isn’t the place I wanted to be. What’s the point of all of this if Riddle wasn’t even a Gaunt?”

“His mother could’ve been a Gaunt,” Hyperion pointed out.

“But would she have married a man who was at best, a half blood?” Lucius pondered aloud, “The Gaunts were rather enthusiastic about their view on blood purity.”

“Which would explain the Dark Lord’s similar beliefs,” Hyperion nodded.

Sirius snorted, “With him being a half blood? That seems hypocritical.”

“The Dark Lord was not always the most  _ veracious  _ of men,” Severus drawled. 

“So how do you even know if what he was saying about being descended from Slytherin was true?” Sirius asked.

Hyperion shrugged. “We don’t. That’s what we’re here to try and find out.”

Sirius sighed in acceptance. “Fine. I’ll go search through the pile of rotting food left in pots and pans, and the rest of the kitchen.”

“I’ll check under the floorboards,” Hyperion said.

“I will look for any hidden compartments and in the walls,” Severus stated.

Lucius nodded, “And I can go look through the bedroom.”

Each man got to work. It was a tedious effort on each of their parts, slow and dull and seemingly fruitless. The house reeked of rot - rotting food, rotting floorboards, rotting walls. The smell was so bad, in fact, that each of the men cast a Bubble-Head charm in an attempt to escape the permeating stench.

Sirius took to his task with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. While digging up dirt on Voldemort’s secret past had  _ sounded  _ interesting when Lucius had told him about it, the actual process was...less so. Sirius had imagined it to be like solving a mystery, maybe even fighting Death Eaters and interrogating old blood purists, rather than searching through archives and old papers, and going into a dilapidated old shack. Still, it was all for the kids. The kids that Sirius had never known before, but had come to care for rather quickly. 

There was Draco, his baby cousin, a kid who he had assumed would grow up to be a snob when he read about the boy’s birth in the newspapers back in 1980. However, while Draco had his pride, he was still just a boy. A boy who mooned over the smartest girl in his year. His devotion to Hermione reminded Sirius of the carefree days when James chased after Lily relentlessly, spouting declarations of love. There was Hermione herself, the girl who had gotten Sirius his freedom. A girl who loved to read and had a strong moral compass that she wouldn’t let anyone divert. A girl who reminded him of Lily. There was Theo, a bookish boy, who was seemingly quieter than the rest of his friends and reminded Sirius all too much of Regulus, before everything had all gone wrong. It was almost painful to be around Theo some days. Then there was Daphne, who made Sirius reminisce about Marlene McKinnon, a girl he had dated back in sixth and seventh year. The girl who had finally convinced him to ask Remus out. They were both lively and confident girls, and although Marlene would have hexed him for the thought if she was alive today, Sirius now honestly thought that in hindsight, Marlene would’ve made an incredible Slytherin. Pansy was rather closed off and a tad harsher and sarcastic, but from what he knew about her living arrangements, it was far too similar to how his parents had treated him for his liking. Hannah, the lone Hufflepuff of the group, had the same cheery attitude that Alice Longbottom had embodied before Bellatrix had gotten to her. Sirius had visited her and Frank in St. Mungos once, just before he left, having been given a clean bill of health by the Healers, but it had been too much for him to bear, seeing some of his oldest and closest friends broken beyond repair. He hadn’t gone back since. Finally, there was Ginny, whose situation was like his own reflected through a broken mirror. The girl was spunky and bright and optimistic, in spite of everything. And then, of course, there was the youngest, Astoria. Bright and bold and overdramatic, the girl could just as easily be a Gryffindor as a Slytherin when she was sorted next year. Astoria had always insisted on dragging Sirius along to wherever she went with the other adults, and Sirius had finally realised that it was her way of trying to include him into the group. 

So, going through rotting meat, and orange peels covered in mould was all worth it.He’d do anything if it meant that these kids, who reminded him so much of the people he once knew, could have a brighter future. A future where they wouldn’t have to worry about Voldemort, or Death Eaters. Where they wouldn’t have to go into hiding, or be killed far too young. The world that Sirius desperately wished had come twenty years ago.

Oblivious to Sirius’s inner musings, Hyperion methodically tore through the floorboards, one by one. Most were terribly easy to get through, being warped from water and rotting from the outside in. That was, until he came across a floorboard in the middle of the main room of the house. It was jammed into the flooring, and visibly newer than the other pieces of wood. 

Hyperion frowned and vanished the piece of wood, instead of attempting to pull it up. And underneath the floorboard laid an ornate golden box, that was surrounded by layers of curses. This was not his specialty - it would be better for somebody else to try and break through the curses. 

“Severus?” he called out. 

The dour looking potions master looked up from where he was peeling back the wallpaper. “Yes?”

“I need you to come and take a look at this.”

Severus frowned, before coming over. Hyperion levitated the box onto the remnants of what must have once been the table, and set it down. “It’s highly warded. Lots of curses. I think it might be better if you tried a go at it first.”

Severus nodded, and quickly got to work. After nearly half an hour, the box clicked and unlocked, and Sirius and Lucius came over to see what was inside.

Hyperion hesitantly opened the box. Inside lay a gaudy signet ring for the House of Gaunt. The stone inlaid in the ring was murky and clouded, and the entire piece of jewelry gave off such a strong dark aura that it seemed to choke the life from the entire room. 

Hyperion looked up, and realized that all three of the other men seemed to be staring at the ring, their eyes as clouded as the stone itself. Slowly, as if in a trance, the three men started moving towards the ring. 

Alarmed, Hyperion shouted out, “Lucius! Severus! Sirius!”

They paid him no heed. It was as if they were in some sort of trance.

When Severus reached for the ring, Hyperion, panicking, stunned him. This was deeply disturbing - Severus was not the kind of person to be unable to resist such a dark item. Quickly, Hyperion stunned Lucius and Sirius, before closing the box back on the ring. 

“ _ Rennervate _ ,” Hyperion said, pointing his wand at each of the men. As they all came to, Hyperion frowned. “What was all that about? Severus, Lucius, I know the two of you have dealt with several objects as dark as this without blinking an eye. Sirius being lured in, I can understand, but you two?”

“Lily was there,” Severus said, slowly. “Lily was there and that  _ ring  _ could’ve brought her back. She said that it would bring her back to life.”

Lucius looked at Severus in confusion. “Lily Potter? No, I saw the muggle family. The muggle family that I-” he cut himself off, “And they were telling me that I could bring them back to life, that I could make things right…”

“It’d be easier to name who  _ wasn’t _ there,” Sirius said, in a dull voice. “James. Lily. Marlene. Dorea. Charlus. Reggie. Even though we didn’t get along once we started school. Even though he was a Death Eater. My baby brother was there.”

“What the hell was that thing?” Lucius asked, his voice distant. “If it showed us those that we’ve regretted the loss of...what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Hyperion said, his voice hard. “All that I know is that that  _ thing  _ gave off the darkest magic I’ve ever felt.”

“I’ve felt something like that before, once or twice,” Lucius admitted. “I believe it was with a book that I sold to Borgin and Burkes. A book that had been in my study for a while.”

“Then you can try and buy it back from Borgin and Burkes,” Hyperion suggested. “Or perhaps figure out who they sold it to, and buy it off them.”

“It may be best if Sirius and I go down into town to ask around about any Riddles who may have lived around here,” Lucius said, “Severus can stay here, in case there are any further items that need to have curses broken, and Hyperion seems to be the most unaffected by the ring, so in case if they come across any more items like that, he would be able to handle it.”

About half an hour later, Lucius and Sirius had walked down into the town of Little Hangleton. 

“So,” Sirius said, kicking a pebble around, “Divide and conquer?”

Lucius nodded, “I suppose that may be the best method. I can go to the town hall, and talk to the government officials and look through the old archives.”

“Have fun talking to all the stuffy Muggles,” Sirius said, before turning off and heading towards Main Street. Lucius would be more suited to talk to the boring Muggle governmental figures. He’d feel right at home. But Sirius going in there, asking strangely specific questions in his shaggy black hair and leather jacket? That probably wouldn’t go over well. 

As Sirius walked through the town, he spotted a scruffy looking old man, sitting on a bench and yelling at the pigeons. Bingo. The town’s elderly ‘lunatic’ - as they were viewed - always knew everything. When James and Lily had been in Godric Hollow, that person was Bathilda Bagshot, and they had learned more deeply hidden wizarding gossip from the old bat in three years than Sirius had overheard in his eleven years of spying on his father’s meetings and his mother’s teas, which was truly saying something.

Sirius sat down next to the old man, and stuck out his hand. “Sirius Black, and yes, that’s seriously my name.”

“You're new in town,” the old man said, with a thick Suffolk accent, “The name is Bertie. Are you staying around or just passing through?” 

“Passing through,” Sirius replied, “Although I’m trying to figure something out before I leave.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Bertie said, “They all say I beat the Devil round the Gooseberry-Bush, but there’s not a thing that I don’t know, and everything I say is true. That’s a Bertie guarantee.”

Sirius nodded, grinning. “That’s what I was counting on, Bertie. Do you happen to know anything about the Gaunts? They were the people who used to live in the old shack in the woods. Oh, and, while we’re at it, do you know of anyone by the name of Riddle?”

“Oh that’s quite a story, innit?” Bertie chuckled, “They talked about it for weeks down the pub. But I’m the only person who knows what happened to the Riddles, even though everyone thinks I’m chuckle-headed. I saw it, with my own two eyes, I did.”

He took in a deep breath. “There were three Riddles. There was Mary and Thomas, who were married, and their son, Tom. See, the Riddles were all high and mighty folk and they had a big house, so they needed help to keep it clean. That’s what me ma did. She lived in their house and worked and kept it clean, and when I was a wee lad back in the late thirties, I began working for them as well. One day, Tom Riddle pulled me aside and he told me this story. Of course, it was a story he told everyone, and they all thought he was mad, but I believed him. He told me of the Gaunts, these people who used to live just off of the Riddle property in an old shack by the woods. Devil-worshippers that practiced magic. There was old Marvolo, who was the father, and then his son and daughter Morfin and Merope. See, Tom told me of how he’d met Merope one time, and Morfin gave him hives, just by pointing a stick at him. Tom told me that soon after, Merope started giving him drinks and potions, and made him fall in love with her. They ran off together and got married, and when she was pregnant, Tom said that she stopped giving him the potions. She tried to get him to stay, saying that she loved him, and that she was naming her child after him, but he left right quick. He didn’t love her. He hated her, said she’d cost him his chance with Miss Cecilia. She wouldn’t be a second wife, not when there might be a son out of Merope, so that her children couldn’t inherit the Riddle house.

Bertie looked off into the distance, “That seemed to be the end of it all until one night when I was a strapping young lad. Me ma had died in ‘42, but I still worked for the Riddles. I took care of their electric lights and their cars, kept everything running, see? I had a knack for that kind of thing. I had a friend, named Frank Bryce, who was their gardener, and they had hired an old woman by the name of Ada to replace me ma. One night, I was sneaking back in from seeing a girl in town, and the house was quite loud. And...and what I saw, I tell you, I’ll never forget. There was a young man who looked just like Tom, who was standing in the middle of the parlour with Tom, Mary and Thomas. He was spitting feathers, he was. Said he was Tom’s son, from Merope, and called himself Tom Marvolo Riddle. Called them all a strange word like ‘Muddle’ or ‘Mubble’, or something like that.”

“Do you mean Muggle?” Sirius asked.

“That’s it,” Bertie nodded, “Called them all filthy muggles. He took out a real fancy stick, and said something that sounded like ‘abracadabra’, and a green light shot out of it, and the Riddles all froze and collapsed. He rushed out of the house right after, and I went right to the Riddles, but they were all dead. I went to report it, and at first, they thought it was me what did it, but Mary-Ellen told them I had been with her that whole night. And then, they thought it was Frank. I knew it wasn’t Frank, and I kept on telling them what I had seen, but everyone thought I had been drunk, or screwy in the head. But I know what I saw,” Bertie said, absolutely certain. “Thankfully, they didn’t have any evidence on Frank, so they had to let him go free. I made sure to keep on telling everyone what happened, but they all thought I was addle-headed.” Bertie leaned back on the bench and looked at Sirius’s stunned face. “And here’s the part where you tell me I’m crazy, innit?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, “No, actually. You’ve actually been a great help to me.” He fumbled into his pockets, looking for his wallet. He pulled out a wad of muggle money and shoved it into the man’s hands. “Here, take it. It’s my thanks for you telling me what happened.”

“These are fifty pound notes,” Bertie said, his brows furrowed. 

“Is that not a lot?” Sirius asked.

“Ah,” Bertie said, “You’re one of those rich foreigners ain’t you, who don’t understand our money? No, what you gave me is a lot. Almost too much. I’m just Old Bertie, I don’t need all this.”

Sirius shrugged, “I have no use for it. Take it. It’s yours.” Sirius looked up to see Lucius walking over towards him. “Looks like it’s time for me to leave. Thank you, though. You’ve been a great help.”

Sirius and Lucius walked back up the hill and met Severus and Hyperion, who were standing just outside of the house.

Sirius grinned. “You know, I was an Auror for a little bit, back in ‘80 and ‘81, and I would just like to say that, fifteen years later, I’m still just as good.”

“Do you expect us to be able to make sense of the blithering nonsense you’re spouting, Black?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, no, no, you guys should all go first,” Sirius said, “Mine is kind of a bombshell.”

“Well, we didn’t find anything in the rest of the house,” Hyperion said, “So we ended up putting it back together so that if anyone came around to see if anything was out of place, they wouldn’t find anything.”

“Ah,” Lucius nodded, “That’s some good thinking on your parts. While I was in town, I went through the records. I found a record mentioning a family of Riddles, who were killed in the 1940s, so we do at the very least know that there  _ were  _ Riddles in Little Hangleton around the time the Dark Lord would have been born.” He looked at Sirius, who was rocking on his heels. “Sirius?”

“So, I was talking to one of the townspeople named Bertie, and he happened to be one of the hired help for the Riddles back in the thirties and forties. So he got to know the family pretty well. There was Thomas Riddle, who was married to Mary Riddle, and they had a son together, named Tom Riddle. And then, of course, there were the Gaunts, with Merope and Morfin, and their father Marvolo. But this Tom Riddle isn’t the Tom Riddle  _ we  _ know of. He was a Muggle.  _ But  _ he knew of magic. So, according to Bertie, Tom said that he was taken in by Merope, and tricked into loving her with potions. They eloped, and ran off together. When Merope got pregnant, she stopped dosing Tom with Amortentia, hoping that he would stay with her because of the baby or because he loved her. Instead, Tom hightails it out of there, and never sees Merope again.” Sirius took in a deep breath. “Bertie was sneaking in one night back in the forties, when he saw a man kill all three of the Riddles with the killing curse. The man who did it looked just like a younger version of Tom Riddle, and before he killed the Riddles, he revealed himself to be Tom Marvolo Riddle - Tom Riddle’s son by Merope Gaunt.”

\---

The men reconvened in Greengrass Manor, the gold box and town records in tow. Narcissa and Selene sat hunched over a letter, talking in hushed whispers in the drawing room, while Astoria sat upside-down on the couch, reading ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’. When Sirius, Severus, Lucius and Hyperion came in, all three looked up. 

“So?” Selene asked, “Did you find anything?”

“Merlin above did we find something,” Hyperion groaned sitting down. “We found  _ two  _ things, actually.”

“Care to share?” Narcissa asked, delicately raising an eyebrow. 

“Ah, well,” Lucius began, but he was abruptly cut off. 

“Oh, no no no no, dear, I forgot to mention that Selene and I have just learned something quite interesting,” Narcissa said, her voice sugary sweet. “Do you remember that little black diary that said T. M. Riddle on the front? The one that I told you that we should burn because it seemed to blacken the spirit of the whole room whenever we touched or opened it? The one  _ you  _ said was alright to be sold to Borgin and Burkes, and that it would, in all likelihood, sell for a very high price?  _ That  _ book? 

Lucius nodded, on edge. “I do recall that book. In fact, we had something about that as-”

“I’m not quite finished, dear,” Narcissa said, cutting him off smoothly, “Because that book  _ somehow  _ ended up in Hogwarts. And not only did it end up in Hogwarts, but it ended up in the possession of one Harry Potter.”

The men froze. 

Lucius put in a last ditch effort, “Are you absolutely sure-?” 

“Oh yes I am. Because  _ our son _ wrote home about it.”

Lucius abruptly sat on the couch. “Narcissa, what are we to do about this?”

“Well,” Hyperion said, trying to diffuse the situation, “Do we know what exactly this book does?”

Selene shook her head. “That’s the problem. It could do anything, and we wouldn’t have a clue. Severus, have you any idea?”  
Snape shook his head, sinking into a chair. “There are any number of things an object as dark as you say this journal is could do, both good and bad. It could be something as harmless as storing all the emotions that are written into it, which would require an incredibly dark ritual to be performed upon the book. On the other hand, it could draw the user in, so that they wrote in the book nearly every day, and poured their soul into it, bit by bit, and they would be trapped. I can advise Professor McGonagall to conduct a search on the boys' dormitories of Gryffindor, but that’s about as far as I can go being that-” his voice cut out.

“Severus?” Selene asked, concerned, “Are you quite alright?” 

“Dumbledore has him under a vow not to relay any information that is in direct relation to the secrets Dumbledore knows about the Dark Lord,” Lucius explained. 

“But,” Sirius said, “We were able to find it out anyways. Turns out, Voldemort was actually a half-blood named Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was the son of Merope Gaunt, and-get this-a Muggle man.”

“Sirius,” Narcissa said sharply, “Now is not the time to joke.”

“I’m always Sirius,” Sirius protested, and at Narcissa’s scowl, he hastily added, “But I’m not joking. Promise.”

As the men filled Selene and Narcissa in on what they had learned, nobody noticed Astoria looking curiously at the golden box that had been laid to rest on the table. Slowly, careful not to draw attention to herself, Astoria grabbed the box, and unclasped the lid. The effect was almost instantaneous, as Sirius and Severus’ eyes glazed over, while Lucius gripped desperately onto the couch. Narcissa, who was sitting next to Astoria, quickly grabbed the box from the young girl’s hands, and snapped it shut. 

“And what is this?” she asked, her voice an octave higher than normal. “You brought  _ another  _ object into the house that feels  _ just  _ like the one I told you to get rid of? The one that should not be in our son’s school?”

“Narcissa-” Lucius said, holding up his hands, but quickly everything devolved into chaotic interrogations coming from all ends. 

Astoria frowned, before trying to speak. “Hey, guys?” It seemed as if nobody had heard her the first time, so she repeated again, “Everybody?” When that didn’t work, she screamed, “STOP!” All of the adults looked at her, their bodies completely frozen. “Oh no,” Astoria said, chewing on her lip, “I didn’t mean to freeze everyone. How do I undo it?” 

“Finite Incantatem,” Selene said, although her voice was muddled from being unable to move her mouth. 

Astoria, a bit nervously, picked her mother’s wand out of her robe pockets and waved it in the air. “ _Finite Incantatem_.” The adults all sagged back from their positions, able to move again. 

“Astoria, dear,” Hyperion asked, “What were you trying to say?”

“I know what the ring is,” Astoria said confidently, flipping through her book as she spoke . She landed on her desired page, and showed it to everyone. “It’s the Resurrection Stone!”

Selene’s eyes softened, “Astoria, those are just children’s tales, you know that.”

“But it looks just like the picture in the book,” Astoria protested. 

“Astori-” Selene began.

“I think she’s right,” Sirius said softly.

“Sirius-” Narcissa started, but Lucius cut her off.

“No, Cissa, it makes sense,” he said, “It was able to make us see those who have died, and they tell us that we could bring them back. What other artefact could do such a thing?”

“So then,” Severus said, “Assuming that this is the Resurrection Stone, why does it give off such a dark aura? It must’ve been tampered with, perhaps like the diary.”

“More importantly,” Hyperion said, “Where are the other two Hallows?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I had a really rough past few days, so I'd appreciate any love in the comments.


	24. Never Gonna Love You Like I Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, FalconHonour. I think this is the chapter where we reach 100k words so that's super exciting! Read the note at the end of the chapter for some important info. Hope you all enjoy this!

Hermione collapsed back onto the couch in the Slytherin common room and let out a sigh. The others, who were waiting their turns to discuss their electives with Snape, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m guessing Uncle Severus wouldn’t go for it?” Draco asked.

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “He said I couldn’t do all of the electives. He said that with scheduling and time constraints, it would be absolutely impossible. He made me stick to three. Which is totally unfair. Why give us all these tempting choices, if they’re not going to let us do them all if we want to? I could do it, you know I could!”

“So which ones did you choose, then?” Ginny asked, earning herself a brief, grateful glance from Pansy for heading Hermione off before she could build up a head of steam.

Before Hermione could respond, Daphne nudged her shoulders, “Not Divination, I can tell you that.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I chose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy easily, but I was stuck on my choice for my third elective. I couldn’t choose between Muggle Studies or Care of Magical Creatures,” Hermione explained. “But then, I remembered that nobody else would be taking Muggle Studies, so since I didn’t want to be the only Slytherin in the class, I wound up choosing Care of Magical Creatures. Besides, Cedric says Professor Kettleburn is a really good teacher.”

Draco's face turned stony at the mention of Cedric. Hermione looked at him, confused. “Draco, are you okay?” 

Draco nodded just a bit too quickly, before offering her a smile. “I would’ve taken Muggle Studies with you, if you’d asked.”

Hermione smiled softly, “Thanks, Draco. But I know you really want to do Care of Magical Creatures. And since our parents want us all to do Arithmancy and Runes, I wasn’t going to make you use your only free choice to take Muggle Studies when we all know that you’ve wanted to learn more about dragons ever since you could talk.”

Draco huffed lightly, pretending to be wounded. “They are my namesake, Hermione.”

Hermione laughed, “You’re named after the star, Draco, not dragons.”

Tracey Davis chimed in, “You made the right choice, anyways, Hermione. My mum’s Muggleborn, so I was raised partially in the Muggle world, or at least I was very aware of it. I thought about taking Muggle Studies for an easy O, but I looked at the textbook and it’s super out of date.”

“How so?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Well, the unit in medical care is completely wrong,” Tracey said, laughing to herself. “It said that we use cocaine and heroin for medical purposes. Cocaine and Heroin are illegal Muggle drugs. They haven’t been used by Muggle Healers since the early 1900s, and when they  _ did  _ use them, it was because they didn’t really understand medicine. And it completely left out the fact that Muggles have been to the moon.”

Ginny sat up abruptly, “You’re joking.” 

“Nope,” Tracey said, popping the p. “Just a year and a half ago, Muggle scientists from America got a picture of Jupiter. It was up close and in colour and everything.”

“What else does the course not tell you about?” Theo asked, curiously.

“Well,” Tracey explained, “I bribed Carrine into showing me one of her old papers. One of the questions asks how Muggles communicate with electronic devices. And the answer it accepts is the telegraph, which is this machine that transmits messages in little patterns of beeps, called Morse Code. But Muggles haven’t used that for ages. Modern Muggles talk to each other on a telephone. It’s kind of like a Floo-Call, but you don’t see the person on the other end, and you can call from a box that you keep in your home. And, they’ve started coming up with these things called mobile phones, that are about the size of a chocolate bar, and you can carry them around and call anyone from anywhere you like.”

“That’s wild,” Blaise said, in awe. “Why don’t we have them, then?”

Tracey shrugged, “I think magic interferes with the electricity and the wiring of it all.” 

“What are the rest of you doing for your electives?” Ginny asked.

“I’m taking Divination, Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes,” Daphne said.

“I’m going to take the same as Draco and Hermione,” said Theo, “Arithmancy, Runes and COMC.”

“I’m only taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures,” Pansy said, “Because unlike you all, my parents aren’t pushing me to take three courses, and I’m not about to be a swot if I don’t have to..”

Daphne shoved Pansy lightly on the shoulder. 

“Blaise?” Ginny asked.

“Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Muggle Studies,” said Blaise. “I thought they’d be the easiest, or at least the ones with the least amount of work. Plus, one of my mother’s husbands claimed to be descended from some great Seer, so maybe that’s passed onto me.”

“How would that even work?” Pansy asked, rolling her eyes.

Blaise shrugged, “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot. Trelawney will eat it up, you know what the older years say about her.”

* * *

The months passed and the temperature warmed, and there were no more attacks. Slowly, everyone started to relax. The tension and fear that surrounded Potter dissipated slightly, although he was still something of a social pariah. 

In response to the letter about Potter and the book, Draco had received a very brief but vague reply, saying that the adults back home were ‘looking into it’ and telling them to ‘not go digging around’ for any answers. While frustrating, the group couldn’t help but be just the tiniest bit relieved they weren’t expected to do anything. Besides, Hermione reasoned, perhaps they would be told more when summer break came. 

Before they knew it, May rolled around, and the school year began to wrap up. Hermione, Ginny, Daphne, Hannah and Pansy all stood in their dormitory’s bathroom, getting ready for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match. Pansy, who wore a yellow and black scrunchie as a bracelet on one of her wrists, was carefully applying yellow and black paint in a swirl of dots over Hannah’s face. Daphne was applying Hufflepuff coloured eye-shadow, and Ginny was braiding a yellow ribbon into her hair. They wouldn’t normally have been so blatant in their support of the Puffs- they were loyal to their House, after all - the way the numbers stood, if Hufflepuff won this match, the House Cup was theirs. Hermione pulled Cedric’s jersey out from the drawer she had been keeping it in ever since Cedric had given it to her. 

“Merlin!” Daphne exclaimed. “Is that what I think it is?” Hermione blushed as her twin pulled the jersey from her hands and held it up, exposing the back, which read ‘Diggory’. 

Hannah’s jaw dropped open, “Did you forget to mention something, Hermione, when you told us about that kiss over Yule? Are you guys going out?”

“No,” Hermione said quickly, blushing. “I told him I didn’t think I’d be ready for anything official until third year. But he asked me to wear his jersey for him, and I said I would.”

“Draco’s not going to be happy,” Pansy said, under her breath.

“Why?” Hermione asked, knitting her brow. “It’s not like if Hufflepuff wins, they’d win the cup. Don’t we want them to win the match, so Slytherin wins the cup?”

Pansy looked like she was about to say something, but Daphne nudged her, and Pansy swiftly changed tack. “Of course,” Pansy nodded, “You’ll just look like a bloody Badger-no offense, Hannah.”

“Language!” Hermione and Hannah scolded simultaneously. 

“Buggering shit,” Pansy cursed, as she misplaced a dot on Hannah’s face.

“Language-”

“Oh shut up, I need help fixing this. Save your lecture for later.”

Ten minutes later, they came out into the common room where the boys were waiting. Draco’s face fell about a mile when he caught sight of what Hermione was wearing, and Theo and Blaise shot him sympathetic looks. 

“I don’t think I’ll go to the match today,” Draco said, turning red.

“What?” Hermione asked, “You always go to the Quidditch matches. And this one tells us if you guys win the cup or not!”

“I’m not feeling well,” Draco said quickly. “Think I might have a cold or something.” 

“Oh,” Hermione frowned. “Well, go and ask Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up and then come and join us?”

Draco nodded, “Sure,” though the other boys could tell he wouldn’t. As the rest of the Slytherins left, Hermione turned around and looked back at Draco, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Feel better, Draco,” she said, offering him a smile, before running off to catch up with the rest of the group. 

The moment the door closed, and the common room was empty, Draco flung himself onto one of the couches. 

Struck by a brilliant idea, Draco sat straight up, and dashed out of the common room. A few moments later, he was in Professor Snape’s office. “Dunderhead,” he said confidently, watching the door unlock and open. He looked around the study for his godfather, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Draco sighed heavily, before his eyes landed on the fireplace. Hopefully Uncle Severus wouldn’t kill him for this. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he called out for “Malfoy Manor, Sirius’s room!” and stuck his head through the fireplace. 

He heard a startled yelp, and Sirius came into his line of vision. “Draco, you shouldn’t pop in randomly without warning.”

“Are you seriously getting mad at me for Floo Calling you without permission?” Draco asked, drawn aback, “Because I know for a fact you’ve done so much worse in school.”

“No-I just-forget it,” Sirius said quickly. “What’s up?” 

Draco sighed heavily. “My life is over.” 

“What’s happened? I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Sirius reasoned. “As long as nobody’s dead, and even then, with the Malfoy money, I’m sure your parents could cover it up,” he joked.

“No,” Draco said seriously, “It’s worse! Hermione is wearing Cedric Diggory’s jersey for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor game!”

Sirius’s head quickly ducked out from the fireplace, and Draco heard a muffled noise come from the other side before Sirius stuck his head back in. “It’s going to be okay, Draco, I promise. How did this happen, though?”

Draco frowned, “We played a game of spin the bottle when we went out on the beach. When I spun it, it landed on Hermione, and we kissed and it was amazing. It was the best kiss of my life.” Admittedly, it was the only kiss of his life, but Draco was certain that it was still an amazing kiss. “And then, when she spun the bottle, it landed on Blaise, who had a crush on her last year, but that kind of died out a bit ago. When they kissed, they said it was like a brother and sister kissing, and there wasn’t a spark. So, I thought everything was good and fine! I mean, I knew that she thought Diggory was cute, but we had just kissed, right, so as long as they didn’t kiss, it would be fine, right? But then when Diggory got the bottle, it landed on Hermione and he full on snogged her. And then, what’s even worse, is that well, afterwards, they were talking on the beach and-” Draco went red, “Well, I was listening in, and-”

Sirius smirked, “Don’t worry about it, we’ve all done it before. And my friends and I did far worse. We’d sneak up the girl’s stairs in animagus form, and listen in on their sleepover nights. A LOT of valuable information was learned that way. Like that apparently the Prewett twins had freckles  _ everywhere _ .” 

Draco drew back. “Gross. Well, anyways, they were talking and they said that they liked each other like a lot. They decided that he was going to ask her out officially once we start third year and she turns thirteen. And now she’s wearing his jersey!”

“Oh, Draco,” Sirius said, offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“But it  _ is, _ ” Draco cried, “They’re going to go out and then they’re going to get married and I’ll never even get a chance with Hermione!”

“Hey,” Sirius said, “Just because they might start dating doesn’t mean that they’re going to get married. You’re skipping quite a few steps, there. And you’re all very young, anyways. Relationships don’t necessarily always last.”

“Yeah, but Slytherin ones usually do,” Draco moaned, “I mean, I get why he likes Mia. I mean, who  _ doesn’t _ like Mia?” he sighed, “I’m screwed. Diggory’s older than me, and he’s the Seeker for the Hufflepuff team, and he’s probably going to be Captain and Prefect next year, and he’s the most popular boy in school. All of the girls think he’s handsome! How can I compete with that?” 

“Okay, Draco,” Sirius said, “Take a deep breath. Do you remember me telling you about James Potter and Lily Evans, and how you reminded me of him?” 

Draco nodded, “Yeah? What does this have to do with anything?”

“Because Lily dated three or four other guys before she went out with James,” Sirius explained. “See, sometimes things take a little while to get started.  _ And _ , hear me out, even if Hermione ends up with someone else, there’s someone out there for you, who is just as wonderful as Hermione is.”

Draco scoffed in disbelief, “No, Hermione’s the one for me.”

“Even so,” Sirius said, placatingly, “Don’t count yourself out before everything is over. If I’ve learned anything from the romance books that your mother reads, it’s that it’s not over until they’re married. And even then, things happen. Not that that’s something you’d want to happen, but I’m just saying to not wallow over something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Draco said, his mood finally starting to clear. “I think I’ll get going to the Quidditch match that’s going on, but I’ll see you in a month or so. And you guys are going to tell us about the weird black book that I wrote home about when we get back, right?”

Sirius looked a little guilty. “Can’t make any promises there. That’s kind of up to your parents. But, tell you what, I’ll try and get them to tell you at least the bare bones of it.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Draco said, before pulling out of the fireplace. He dusted himself off, and walked towards the door, when it swung open. Draco jumped back abruptly. 

Professor Snape came walking in, and stopped short when he saw Draco. “Draco, what are you doing in here?” Draco’s eyes widened, as he started trying to think up a lie. “And please, don’t lie. I’ve known your tells since you were seven.” 

Draco reddened, then straightened his back. Looks like it would be the truth. “Hermione’s wearing Cedric Diggory’s jersey to the game-”

Snape’s face softened, “Oh, Draco.”

Draco threw his hands in the air. “Does everybody know about my crush on Hermione?” 

Snape smirked, “Draco, you don’t exactly hide it. The only reason she hasn’t realised is because she’s thirteen. Are you all right?”

Draco huffed, still not over the fact that his crush was such an open secret. “Yeah. But anyways, I came in here to talk to you, but you were already gone. So I floo-called Sirius. And I’m better now. Why are you in here right now, anyways? I thought you’d be at the Quidditch match. Did they catch the snitch already? Did we get the cup?”

Snape’s mouth set into a grim line. “The match, and Quidditch in general has been cancelled.”

_ “What?” _

“We found two students petrified by the library - Lisa Turpin and Penelope Clearwater.”

Draco’s face fell. “Merlin! Was it Potter? Did you catch him? Did he-”

“Draco, Potter was out on the Quidditch Pitch at the time.”

“But still, he could’ve ordered the monster to attack while he was out! Clearing him of suspicion!”

“Draco,” Professor Snape said, “We are not discussing any of this now. We’re going to go back to the Slytherin common room and there will be an emergency house meeting.”

“But-”

“Now.”

* * *

For once, Gryffindor Tower was utterly silent. At night, there would be rustling and last minute essay writing, but right now, there was none of that.

Fred and George exchanged nervous glances. Ever since McGonagall came running out on the field to cancel the match, they had felt something in their stomachs sink. McGonagall was just as much of a Quidditch fanatic as Oliver Wood - if she was prepared to cancel the match that would determine if the cup went to Gryffindor or Slytherin, there had to be something seriously wrong. 

McGonagall climbed through the portrait hole, her face unusually pale and grim. “Two more students have been Petrified. They were both Ravenclaws, by the names of Penelope Clearwater and Lisa Turpin. So, the following adjustments must be made, in the name of safety.” She unrolled a scroll, and began to read it aloud. “All students will return to their House common rooms by seven o’clock each evening. No student is to leave the Tower after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”

The students all exchanged wary glances, and McGonagall rolled up the scroll. “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.” 

She climbed out of the portrait hole, closing it behind her and the crowd burst into chatter. Fred looked around for Percy-wouldn’t he have something to say about this? Something Prefect-y that would calm everyone down? But Percy was sitting slumped over in a chair by the fireplace, staring vacantly at the ground as his hands shook uncontrollably. Fred swallowed. He had never seen his older brother look so nervous. Percy was always so certain of himself-whether he was right or wrong- that to see him so shaken was unnerving. 

Lee Jordan cleared his throat and began to yell out, “That’s one Gryffindor down, not counting Nearly-Headless-Nick, two Ravenclaws, and one Hufflepuff. Haven’t any of the teachers noticed Slytherin hasn’t been touched? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?” He was met by scattered applause and roars of approval, and Fred felt his heart clench.

“Wait a minute,” Fred called out, “We shouldn’t jump to judge them all. Sure, the Petrified students are all from other Houses but maybe it’s just pure luck that Slytherin hasn’t been caught.”

Lee Jordan frowned, and a fifth year yelled, “You’re just defending them because you’re shacking up with one of them!”

“No, I’m not!” Fred replied hotly, “I’m defending them because it’s the decent thing to do! We shouldn’t jump to conclusions-that’s what got Sirius Black put in Azkaban for eleven years!”

“But he was a Gryffindor,” Lee said, “Not a Slytherin.”

“And why does any of that matter?” George asked, “Do the Slytherins seem to be happy? Like they aren’t all freaked out either, just as much as us?”

Fred was absolutely shocked, when a nervous, but determined looking Neville Longbottom spoke up next. “I know Hermione Greengrass is just as worried as we are. And she’s in Slytherin. She’s really nice, she helps me with Potions and everything.”

“Great,” Cormac McLaggen said, “One decent Slytherin.”

Neville turned red at the rebuttal but continued on, “If you all got to know them, you’d know that most of them aren’t blood purists, either. No more than what you’d find in the other houses.”

“What about Montague?” McLaggen retorted.

“We’ve got our fair share of unlikeable people too,” George pointed out, “Every house does. And McLaggen, have you ever heard of the phrase ‘don’t throw stones in glass houses’?”

Those who heard him broke into laughter, and some of the tension eased off. “We’re not saying that the Heir of Slytherin isn’t a Slytherin,” Fred said, trying to close out the argument, “Just that they could be anyone. Wouldn’t the most Slytherin move be to get sorted into another house, so that they could pull off something like this without suspicion? We don’t know anything, so we shouldn’t go around hurling accusations or passing judgement. Besides, we still don’t know if Harry’s the Heir or not,” he finished with a grin.

Fred’s eyes found Harry in the crowd. The younger boy had gone red, and Fred felt bad for him. He didn’t really think Harry was the Heir, even with the Parseltongue taken into account, but he needed to make a point. “I mean, I don’t think he’s the Heir, but the whole school was convinced that he was three months ago. And well, if he is, and he’s pissed at me now for bringing that back up, you’ll know who it is when I get Petrified,” Fred joked.

The discussion seemed to end, and people started going up into the dorms. Lee turned to Fred and George, a strange look on his face. “I want you guys to be careful, all right?” he said, “I’m not saying that if you lay with the snakes, you’re going to get bit, but you guys are my best friends, and I don’t want you hurt.”

George grinned easily, “Relax, Lee. Remember, Freddie and I were almost put in Slytherin ourselves. Our Weasley blood triumphed in the end, but we could just as easily be the Heir of Slytherin as the next person. And if were, then that would mean Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and Ginny would be too. Bill and Charlie aren’t here, Ginny’s too freaked out over this to be the Heir, Ron wouldn’t know what to do if he was the Heir, and Percy would only go after people who didn’t listen to him and disrespected his Prefect status. Which would mean Fred and I would’ve been Petrified the first day of school.”

“Right, Perce?” Fred said, nudging Percy, who was still sitting in the chair. 

Percy looked up, ashen “R-right.”

“Besides,” Fred joked, “Next Year’s Head Boy would never be the Heir of Slytherin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, poor Draco. But he'll get there, I promise! Although in the meantime, I do love his melodramatic conversations with Sirius. 
> 
> I'm terribly sorry but I have a _lot _going on in my life right now, and I've fallen behind in my writing for this fic, so I will be posting this chapter, and then hopefully next chapter next Friday, and then going on a hiatus, so I can catch up on my writing. It shouldn't be too long hopefully, it'll depend on the amount of workload I have in my life and my inspiration, but with any luck, it shouldn't take too long. I just want to get to a point where I've got a comfortable buffer between the chapters I'm posting and the chapters I've written. Right now, unfortunately, I just have a lot on my plate, and I just need a bit of time to move a few things around to make everything balanced and a bit more manageable.__
> 
> __The chapter next Friday should be the end of second year, and I really am looking forward to writing third year. It's going to be a lot of fun, and I've got a lot of things planned for it. Please, continue to leave comments and love on this fic, because it always gives me so much motivation and puts a smile on my face._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and leave Kudos if you enjoyed!  
> As always, check out my tumblr to find other fics I've enjoyed reading, as well as extra content, ideas, or musings about Snakes and Sunflowers!
> 
> https://allysficpics.tumblr.com/


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